


A Farscape Cringe-Fic Anthology

by John_Quixote



Category: Farscape
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crichtonisms, Earth meets the Uncharted Territories, Future Fic, Gen, Medieval Latin, Unintentional Badfic, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 74,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Quixote/pseuds/John_Quixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything in here is terrible. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bells of Terra Firma

**Author's Note:**

> What follows here are a series of relatively disconnected "Farscape" fanfics, all of which were written during the nail-biting lull between the cancellation of the series and the announcement of "The Peacekeeper Wars". As such, they are a product of their time—a time when the fandom was in something of a miniature crisis, when there were certain conventions in fanfic which were utterly terrible in retrospect, and when I was apparently quite the shit author. Everything you're about to read from this point forward is dreck. I'm only posting it here to archive my shame.
> 
> Our first example, "The Bells of Terra Firma" (oy, why do I suddenly feel like Svengoolie or Elvira?), is an "episode replacement fic" for that beloved season-four mainstay, "Terra Firma". As an AU, it diverges after "Lava's a Many Splendored Thing". Aeryn wasn't on Moya when they caught up to it circa "Promises", and so Crichton did something drastic.

_"JUST make a frelling wormhole and go home!"_

John Crichton slid the wheeled chair across the room until it came to a stop, and threw the baseball at the far wall. "I hate the ratcage..."

_"Translator microbes, eh? So what, you hear every language like it's English?"  
"Not exactly. You still hear the sounds of the other language, but the microbes let you understand what the sounds mean. It's more like subconscious subtitles than a psychic dub-job."_

The baseball hit the steel wall with a dull thud and bounced back. "I hate Nevada..."

_"What exactly is 'frell,' Crichton? If that's who you really are..."  
"'Frell'? Well it's kinda like 'fuck', but less polite."_

John caught the ball and looked at it for a second. "And I God damned _hate_ Aera-fucking-51!" He hurled the baseball at the triple-ply plexiglass windows, sealed as tightly as the rest of the quarantine chamber. The ball rattled the glass, and bounced away harmlessly.

"Enough of that, Crichton. Keep quiet in there." The guard on duty didn't even look at him.

"Hey," John said, rapping on the window harder, "does this bother you? 'Cause it bugs the crap outta me!" John had said that to another soldier once, a long time ago... the memory still hurt.

A uniformed officer, flanked by a pair of MPs, came into the room. Crichton let out a short, deranged, high-pitched laugh and stood up. "Colonel West, good to see ya! Let me guess: it's time for another round of," Crichton deepened his voice to sound like a TV announcer, "Interrogate the Astronaut? 10,000-Question Pyramid? Wormhole of Fortune?" John fell back onto the chair and let in spin around in lazy circles. "I told you three days ago, I'm not going to play anymore, not until I see my dad."

"Actually, that's why I'm here, Commander. We've collected a few choice participants to ask the questions at your next debriefing."

"Debriefing? That's what they're calling this? Debriefings do not last for two weeks!" John again silently cursed himself for not landing in the middle of New York City, or calling a lawyer or a news station before doing anything else. Instead, he had landed at Kennedy Space Center, right on the launch pad, and soldiers had nabbed him and impounded the module before he could even find DK.

The colonel punched a code into the keypad and opened the quarantine chamber. John was hauled to his feet by the MPs, and taken through a maze of hallways to a room with nothing in it apart from a single chair in the center, under a hanging light bulb. The chair faced a wall that was mostly mirror - or one-way-window, depending on which side you were on. The MPs sat Crichton down, and then left, closing the door behind them.

Colonel West's voice buzzed over an intercom. "Crichton, we have some people here who are going to ask you some questions."

"So tell me something new."

"They're not psychologists, scientists, or military. They're going to ask you questions about your past."

Now that got John's attention. "You've got my family in there, don't you! And DK too, I'll bet. Who else didja round up? Old girlfriends? My third-grade English teacher?"

"John," said the voice over the mike. Crichton recognized it instantly - it was his dad. "What happened on your tenth birthday?"

"Dad? I should've known you'd ask that... long story short, you were late, but you commandeered a jet so that we could go fishing at Sawyer's Mill."

"What did you catch?"

"It was a huge trout, Dad."

The questions went on like that for nearly an hour. Eventually, John realized that there were four people behind that mirror - Jack Crichton, Olivia Crichton, DK, and none other than Alex O'Conner. When he answered his fifth trick question from DK (he got the sense that his childhood friend hadn't believed he was really alive), he started to get fed up. "Hey, when am I gonna get out of here? I'm not answering another question until I actually _see_ someone." He turned around in the chair and didn't say another word.

* * *

Sometimes, it doesn't matter how patriotic a man is; it doesn't matter whether information is 'classified' or not. The simple fact is, you don't stand between a national hero with friends in high places, and his long-lost son. And so, John Crichton was finally released from quarantine, set free to deal with a whole new set of problems. The Secret Service followed him wherever he went, "for his own protection," they said. John wasn't sure of that, but at least they kept the newshounds away. Guys with shades, earpieces, and black suits are handy for when you want to keep microphones out of your face, but they don't do anything to stop the shouts, the flashes of cameras, or seeing your face on every newspaper, TV channel, and supermarket hotsheet. _"Astronaut fathers alien baby."_ If the tabloids only knew.

John was glad for the little things, parts of Earth that he had missed out there: the food he was familiar with, doors he knew how to open, toothbrushes that didn't wriggle. But when it came to the stuff he had thought was important - his friends, his family - John found himself claming up, growing quiet and distant every time he was reminded of something from his old life. He worked with DK, trying to figure out how his module's modifications and his pulse pistol worked. He stayed in his father's house, and Olivia hung around to spend time with her brother. But he didn't talk about what happened in space - he couldn't bring himself to do that yet.

And Alex? John tried to avoid her, but he never managed to do a very good job. She offered her expertise as a molecular biologist to IASA, and they placed her with Crichton and DK, studying the biomechanoid parts that John had grafted onto the _Farscape_.

"I'm gonna go grab some coffee," said DK. "You want any?"

Alex fired off an order that would undoubtedly be sending DK to Starbucks for most of the very near future. Without even asking whether John wanted any, DK ducked out the door and left Alex alone with him.

"John?"

"Yeah?" Crichton was doubled over, leaning into the module.

"Do you want to tell me what happened out there?"

John stood up and looked at Alex. "I can't. Not yet."

"Why not?" Alex inched closer. "I mean, my God, John! You show up and talk about how you haven't had beer or seen the Three Stooges in three years, and I understand that, but most men I know would also point out that they haven't been with a woman in-" Alex saw the stonefaced stare she was getting from John. "But not you... because you... oh, my God... an alien? John, you... and an alien?"

John didn't say anything, but all Alex heard was the absence of a denial.

"Don't tell me that all this brooding has been over a woman," said Alex. "That's just not like you, John. When we broke up, you bounced right back and starting dating that Caroline Wallace woman-"

"That's right, Alex, we broke up. Because you left. I seem to have that effect on people."

"She left you?" John nodded. "And that's why you finally came home."

"No, I finally came home because I finally figured out how to make a wormhole that _lead_ home." John could see that Alex was going to press him for more information, but he didn't want to answer any questions. He just picked up a nearby tool and pitched it into the module's cockpit; and then he stormed out of the hangar.

Alex, not to be defeated so easily, ran after John and caught up with him in the doorway. "This alien of yours is still on the other side of the universe, right?"

"Galaxy," corrected John, "but that's far enough. You should know that; California was far enough."

"I'm not in California now," said Alex. "I missed you."

John, as had been his habit lately, didn't say anything. For once, Alex saw advantage in his silence, and kissed him.

* * *

Some days later, John was on his way home one evening, only to see a limousine and a couple of jeeps parked outside his dad's house. He rushed inside and found Colonel West and a couple of IASA eggheads waiting for him. "Commander Crichton," said the colonel, "have a seat."

John didn't move. "What's going on?"

The officer threw a stack of black-and-white photographs onto the coffee table. "Does that look familiar?"

John picked up the pictures. The first one showed a tiny, black speck, too small to make out. Each subsequent image was magnified, little by little, and as John went through them, he gradually recognized the shape of a Peacekeeper Prowler. "Did this come out of the wormhole?"

"Then you do know what it is?" asked on the of the scientists.

"Yeah. It's a Prowler, a starfighter. Stealth capabilities, some pretty heavy firepower."

Colonel West charged forward and grabbed Crichton's shirt collar. "Is it here to gather information? Or can it attack us on its own?"

John grabbed the officer's arm and twisted it away, obviously surprising the colonel with his strength. "There's nothing to worry about, Colonel," said John, "because no Prowler pilot has ever navigated a wormhole and lived." He turned to the scientist gathering up the photos and asked, "What is that ship doing now?"

"At the moment, Commander, nothing. It's been in a deteriorating orbit for about two hours now. We expect it to hit the atmosphere and burn up in another two."

"So if it was going to burn up, what do you need me for?"

Colonel West fixed Crichton with a venomous gaze and said, "You're going up there in the _Farscape I_ , Commander, and you're going to tow that ship down here in one piece."

* * *

The _Farscape_ module's repulsor lifts seemed to struggle with the weight as they set the Prowler down, causing both ships of wobble precariously before touching the ground. Finally, John set down and popped the canopy. He noticed that there were soldiers and scientists waiting, as well as Alex and DK.

John leapt out of the module and turned to face the Prowler. "Hey, DK, do you still have my pulse pistol?"

"Uh... yeah, sure, John." DK took the pistol and handed it to John, who retrieved the chakan oil cartridge from his own pocket and loaded the weapon.

John walked cautiously over to the prowler and depressed the controls that opened the canopy. The Prowler slowly opened and John took a step back, fully expecting to be splattered with Prowler pilot frappé. But that didn't happen. The pilot was unconscious, but in one piece. And when John saw who it was, his pistol fell to the ground.

It was Aeryn Sun.

* * *

Aeryn remembered a sense of people hovering over her, and the distinct feeling that someone was holding her hand through it all. When she woke up, she realized that she was in a white room, with sunlight streaming in through a window, and that someone really was holding her hand.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

"John?!" Aeryn rolled off the bed and grabbed John possessively, fiercely pressing her lips to his. "It's true," said Aeryn finally. "You made it back to Earth."

"Yes I did," said John. "The question is, how did you get here?"

"First, where is here? I don't remember landing."

"I brought your Prowler down with the _Farscape_. You're in an infirmary, at IASA headquarters in Florida."

Aeryn was still holding on to John, letting her head rest on his. "I did it. I finally found you."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I left the ex-Peacekeeper squad after about a monen. I spent the next two trying to track down Moya, and when I finally found her, you had already left. So I had Pilot fly us back to where you opened your wormhole, and we waited for it to open again."

"But... you knew what wormholes did to Prowler pilots. You knew that it could kill you!"

"I had to risk it, John. I also knew that if you found your Earth, I'd never see you again unless I went there myself, and I had to find you!"

At last, thought John, the heart of the issue. "And why did you have to find me?"

"Every reason," said Aeryn. "I shouldn't have left, but I needed time. I had to deal with losing you, and I didn't know how."

"I dealt with it after the diagnosan's planet," said John.

"This was different," said Aeryn. "You died, but you were still alive. It took time before I could understand. You're the same man who I fell in love with, who said he loved me beyond hope, who told me I could be more. You're still the John Crichton who asked me to go to Earth with him... who made love to me on that false Earth." Aeryn paused, gauging John's reaction. His eyes... they were softening, just a bit. "You're still the John Crichton who would be the father of my child."

"The old woman said something like that," said John, "but unless sebaceans are really slow to show, something's missing."

"I was a Peacekeeper, John," said Aeryn, who proceeded to explain the details of the PK stasis gene. "The fœtus can be held in stasis for up to seven cycles. This baby could have been conceived that once on the false Earth, and we'd never know."

"Okay, I'll buy that. I just have one question. Did you know before you left Moya?"

* * *

_"It's just a flesh wound."_

"Never mind that, Officer Sun. We need you in fighting form before the next mission. Go see the medtech this microt; that's an order."

Aeryn navigated the corridors of the squad base, coming to a halt at the infirmary. "Officer Sun, come in," said the medic. "This won't take long, just a quick checkup."

He treated the pulse wound efficiently enough, and activated the bio-scanner. "What's this? Officer Sun, are you aware that you have a fœtus in stasis?"

"No," said Aeryn. "Is there any way to tell how long it's been there?"

"I'm afraid not," said the tech, "but we can run a genetic scan if you need to know who the father is."

"I do," said Aeryn. "Run the test."

It didn't take more than a few microts, but Aeryn already knew the result when she saw the medic's face turn pale. "I... recommend immediate abortion," he said. "This will only take-"

"Why? Is the child not healthy?"

"That depends on your definition," spat the medic. "It's not pure sebacean. The father's species isn't even in our records!"

Aeryn's smile of relief lit up the room, but the medic could only stare at her with open contempt.

* * *

"Of course I didn't know!" said Aeryn. "I found out after I joined the counter-terrorism unit, and once I found out, I immediately left them to find you! I realized something else a long time ago, John."

"Which was?"

"Whether you deny it or not, you and your twin were the same. Equal and original. If you had come with me on Talyn, you'd be dead, and I'd still be in a hospital on Earth, trying to tell John Crichton that I love him. So the way I see it, there's only one question that matters: _do you love Aeryn Sun?_ "

John gently touched Aeryn's chin and looked into her eyes. She had left him twice, put him through more pain than he had ever thought was possible, and still his answer hadn't changed. "Beyond hope. When I lose you, Aeryn, I lose my one constant. My guiding star."

"You promised that you'd never leave me, John. Now I make that same promise. I'll never leave you again."

"Prove it," said John. "Marry me." John reached his hand into his pocked and pulled out the ring he had bought years ago, the one he had planned to give to Alex once. He wasn't quite sure why he'd been carrying it around lately; he certainly hadn't planned on giving to anyone anytime soon.

"What? You're asking me to be your life-mate?"

"On this planet, they say 'husband and wife,' but that's the basic idea."

"Yes!" said Aeryn, nodding emphatically. "I will marry you, John Crichton."

John placed the ring on Aeryn's finger and they kissed again. This time, John responded with all the emotion he'd been holding back since Aeryn had first taken off in her Prowler. "One question," said John. "How do we let junior out of the freeze-dryer?"

"I released the stasis after I found Moya, about 20 solar days ago."

"You mean... we're gonna have a baby?"

Aeryn nodded and shot John one of those heart-melting smiles of hers.

That was enough for John. He ran to the window, threw it open, and shouted, _**"We... are having... a baby! Yeah!"**_ He pointed to the heavens and announced, _**"Frell you!"**_

"Careful," said Aeryn, trying not to laugh at John. "You'll fall out the window... clumsy human."

"Yeah, sorry. I just... whew."

"Then, you're happy?"

Out of breath, John nodded.

Then the door burst open, and in came Jack Crichton, DK, Alex, and Colonel West. "We heard yelling," said Jack. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, just fine," said John. "Aeryn's okay. We're all... okay now."

All except Alex, John realized. She had seen the two of them holding hands and simling; she might have even noticed the ring on Aeryn's finger that hadn't been there earlier. In any case, she was staring at Aeryn with undisguised malice.

It was the exact opposite of the wonder in Jack's eyes. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Aeryn Sun," said Jack. "My son tells me you've saved his life a couple times."

" _Tn oucna cina htsem!i terom sevi lsreh tohc a ede vasew,_ " said Aeryn.

"Woah," said DK. "That is one freaky language!"

"Sorry," said John. "No translator microbes. Aeryn said that we've saved each other's lives more times than we can count."

"So are you going to introduce us?" asked DK.

"Why is he staring at me?" asked Aeryn. Then she looked down and noticed the hospital gown. "Where are my clothes?"

"Good question," said John. "Oh, Colonel West? Would you be so kind as to retrieve Officer Sun's clothing? Thank you... _so_ much." It was an obvious dismissal, and the colonel angrily took the hint.

John was finally able to introduce Aeryn to his father, DK, and Alex; and without Colonel West listening in, he felt that he could ask a few more questions. "So how did you get through that wormhole alive? Technically, you should be a fine paste on your Prowler's windshield."

"The test pilots must have all been incompetent," said Aeryn. "The dumbest recruit could dodge the energy waves in that wormhole. _You_ can dodge them in that dren-bucket of yours!"

John just stared blankly at Aeryn. "Those waves, Aeryn, are negative energy - exotic spacetime fluctuations that hold the singularity open. And they're invisible."

"You mean, you can't see them?"

"Nope," said John. "I can sense 'em because I know wormholes, but the Prowler pilots, the scientists on the carrier, hell, even Scorpy couldn't see the negative flux waves. And you know what kind of eyes that creepy bastard had."

"Maybe it's my pilot DNA," said Aeryn after a moment's thought.

"That's got to be it," said John. "So Pilot could probably navigate a wormhole just fine too. Where is Moya right now?"

"Waiting on the other side. I told them that I'd transmit a homing signal when I found you."

"I should probably get up there and do that, then," said John. "No sense in leaving Moya out in the open where Grayza and the PKs can find her."

Aeryn stood up and said, "The beacon's on my Prowler. We should both-"

"I can handle it," said John. "You need to stay here and rest."

Colonel West returned, carrying a bundle of black leather. Aeryn took them and started dressing; from the look on her face, John knew he wasn't going to get her to stay here. "Officer Sun," said the colonel, "I'd like to ask you some questions when you have a moment. We're particularly interested in the technology on your fighter-" He was interrupted by Aeryn's Sebacean, and what she said made Crichton laugh.

"Sorry, Colonel," said John. "Aeryn says that she's a soldier, not a tech, and that _I_ actually understand Peacekeeper technology better than she does. Which isn't saying much."

"Obviously not," grunted the Colonel.

"Are you coming?" asked Aeryn.

"Right behind you," said John.

"Where are you going?" asked Alex. It was the first thing John had heard her say all day.

Aeryn whipped around and shot Alex one of her patented Peacekeeper "I don't like you, you lesser life-form" stares. Oh, yes: Aeryn knew who this girl was, and she wasn't about to let anything else get between her and John again. Not twinning, not coin-tosses, and certainly not old "recreation" partners.

"We'll be back in a little bit," said John. "ET just has to phone home and let the folks know we're alive."

* * *

Aeryn's Prowler waited near the mouth of the wormhole.

Crichton was counting down using numbers that Aeryn hadn't heard from him before. "Tres... dos... uno." On cue, the wormhole flared to life.

Aeryn toggled the signal beacon and waited.

"Aeryn?" came the transmission. "It's D'Argo. Come in."

"Yes, D'Argo, I read you," said Aeryn.

"Good to hear your voice, Big Guy!" said John.

"John? You're alive? That is wonderful news, my friend! Did you find your way back to Earth?"

"I tell you what, D. Have Moya follow our signal through the wormhole, and you can see what it looks like for yourself."

"All right. We'll see you both very soon." D'Argo cut the signal.

A few hundred microts later, Moya emerged from the mouth of the wormhole. "Let's go inside and say 'hi' to the kids," said John.

"Pilot, are you there? This is Aeryn."

"We are here, Officer Sun. You are clear to land in docking bay one."

* * *

"For real?" squealed Chiana. "You're finally getting married? That's the draddest!"

"Married?" huffed Rygel. He shook his head at Crichton in disappointment and muttered, "Idiot."

D'Argo smacked Rygel on the back of the head and said, " _Most of us_ are happy for both of you. John, Aeryn, congratulations."

"I could officiate the ceremony," said Noranti. "I am familiar with a vast number of bonding traditions..."

"We've decided on a simple, human-style wedding," said Aeryn. "It's the only tradition John knows, and Peacekeepers don't even have that."

"I can understand that," said Chiana. "The only sebacean wedding you ever came close to was Crichton's, and that was to another woman!"

"Yes. Chiana. Thank you. For reminding me," said Aeryn. The tone of her voice was enough to make even Chiana shut up and look away meekly.

" _Anyway,_ said John, "you guys are all invited, once we finally get this whole shindig planned. In the meantime, how would you guys like a tour of my home planet?"

* * *

On board the Peacekeeper Command Carrier patrolling the Uncharted Territories...

"Captain Braca, I need your assistance."

"What for, Ma'am?"

"No matter," said Grayza, picking up the telepathic communicator. "You wouldn't remember anyway." With one swift motion, she stuck the device to Braca's forehead. "Skreeth, do you hear me?"

"I do, Commandant. The leviathan is orbiting Crichton's home planet."

"Where is it?"

"I do not know. They traveled through a wormhole to get here."

"Listen to me: I want you to go down to the planet and find out everything you can about its location, its people, its defenses."

"I understand."

The link was broken, and the psychic device came off of Captain Braca. He came to his senses, and realized that he was on the floor with the commandant.

"That was... excellent," she cooed. "That will be all, Captain."

Braca was visibly flustered, confused by what he didn't remember. "Um... glad I could be of service, Ma'am."

* * *

"I'm not sure I understand this concept," said D'Argo.

"It's very simple," said John. "We go out there and talk with the guy sitting at the desk. Do you follow me so far?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. The people with cameras film what we talk about, and later tonight, they broadcast it on the TV networks for people to watch."

"Okay... and people want to watch this, why, exactly?"

"Because we're famous, and they want to know what we think about stuff," said Crichton.

"Just enjoy it!" said Chiana. "I love being famous!" D'Argo poignantly ignored her; the sense of betrayal was still to close.

"I don't like it at all," said Aeryn. "Everyone's always analyzing every little thing we do. John, do you think that this Dah-veed Letter-man will ask about us? Our getting married, I mean?"

"You can bet on it," said John. "It's okay. People were going to find out sooner or later. If they don't like it, frell 'em. But most people will love the idea so much, we'll never hear the end of it."

"That's what scares me," said Aeryn.

"Your Earth is very strange that way," said D'Argo. "Your leaders obviously don't want us here. They don't like aliens-"

"They don't like anybody," said John.

"-But most people treat us like celebrities. Like your 'movie stars'." D'Argo shook his head in confusion. "I've been asked to play an action hero in a science fiction movie. I do not know how to act! I would not even know where to begin!"

"Hold that thought, D," said John. "They're about to give us our cue."

 _"...so let's all give a warm welcome to Commander John Crichton and the crew of the starship 'Moya'!"_ The wild applause from the audience was more than enough incentive for Chiana and Rygel to rush onto the stage (the latter giving the adoring masses his best royal wave). Noranti and Sikozu, always detached from the others in their own way, followed behind.

"Are you ready?" asked John.

"I think so," said Aeryn. "But this is the last one. I don't want to talk to any more of these 'talk hosts' for a long time!"

"You can shoot the very next guy who invites us," promised John, "on the lowest pulse setting, of course." They followed the other aliens onto the stage.

D'Argo took a deep breath and gathered his courage. _I am a luxan warrior. I have seen two battle campaigns and braved countless dangers alongside my friends. They are here with me even now, and I will not abandon them. Yes, I truly have nothing to fear... truly... nothing at all..._

* * *

It was well after-hours, and Alex had been working at IASA non-stop since morning. She couldn't stand seeing John and that Aeryn woman together. She wasn't even human, for God's sake! She was a gun-toting biker-chick from space! A damn brain-sucking alien! A _brunette_ alien! She must have done something to John... that was it. There was no way he would go for a creature like that, not when she herself was right in front of him, practically throwing herself at him. She had to warn John, get him to come to his senses, undo whatever the aliens had done.

She threw down the readouts that she didn't understand anyway - part X-ray, part blueprint, for all the good that did her and DK and the other scientists - and rushed out of the hangar, towards the parking lot.

It was quiet; not many people stayed this late into the night. Even DK and his know-it-all wife had gone home (Alex took a perverse pleasure in the fact that even Dr. Larua Knox, brilliant astrophysicist, couldn't figure out how the hetch drive warped spacetime and propelled a ship). Still thinking about John more than her surroundings, she quickly drew the keys from her purse and tried to steady her hand enough to use them on the car door. Somewhere in the distance, a cat meowed and a trash can fell over.

Then, a horrible shriek filled her ears and Alex found herself being pulled off her feet and thrown to the ground. She opened her eyes and saw a hideous green face, drooling, snarling at her. It was an alien - it had to be! They were on to her! Maybe this was even what Aeryn Sun really looked like!

The creature raised its razor-like claws, and Alex screamed.

* * *

All that John Crichton could think was, _The big day is tomorrow. The biggest big day that anyone ever had. Most people get pre-wedding jitters, but I've got rattlers on crack-cocaine in there because I'm marrying the most beautiful and kickass woman in the whole damn universe. Because the President and half of this planet's heads of state have been invited to the wedding, no thanks to Dominar Buckwheat XVI. Because I couldn't decide whether DK or D'Argo should be my best man, so it's probably going to come down to who has the lesser hangover after my bachelor party, and let's face it, even though D'Argo can put 'em away, he doesn't stop once he gets going. DK can do that before he gets totally pissed, because he learned the hard way, when we were in college._ Crichton's thoughts went on like that all day, bouncing incoherently from one topic to the next in haphazard fashion.

"This tradition is useless to me!" said Rygel, snapping Crichton back to reality for the moment, "Why would I want to accompany you for a night of drinking and watching the hideous, naked forms of body-breeding females? I would need a great deal of alcohol to enjoy that, let me assure you!"

DK had gotten to know the aliens much better since receiving translator microbes. "We can always look for a strip-joint that caters to the 'Kermit the Frog' demographic, but I think you're better off going with Irish whiskey, vodka, and Schnapps'."

"That made about as much sense as the things Crichton says," muttered D'Argo. "Look, there are similar traditions on Lux, Ilan, and many of the Sebacean worlds I am familiar with. My own pre-bonding party was many cycles ago, but I remember it well enough to help John through his. I only assume that on Earth, these events do not involve tattoos or brandings?"

"Riiight," said DK. "I think you'd better let me call the shots on this one."

* * *

"Come on, Aeryn!" said Chiana, pulling tomorrow's blushing bride towards the brightly lit building. "It's a tradition on this planet!"

"This 'Las Vegas' place is a marvel," said Noranti. "All the beverages and vomit mixing in the streets could provide countless new potions..."

"That is disgusting!" sneered Sikozu. "Please remind me why I've consented to come with you."

"Because you speak better English than us, so you can get us into the good places," said Chiana, "and to have a decent bachelorette party, we have to find the really good places! That guy at the casino... the one that belongs to 'Caesar'... he recommended a place called 'Chippenales,' or 'Chippyfails,' or something. Ah, whatever, we'll find it!"

Aeryn finally tore free of Chiana's grasp and said, "All right, you can stop pulling! I'll come along, but if one of you even so much as breathes a word of this to John, you all know what sort of pain I can inflict with my bare hands, or a pulse pistol, or a pulse rifle, D'Argo's Qualta blade, my Prowler, a dull fragment of metal, dry food cubes..."

* * *

The chapel was packed tighter than a transport pod full of crackers, with guests from all over the planet (and obviously, a few from farther away). Chiana and Sikozu had been conscripted to join Olivia as bridesmaids, which as the human woman explained it, meant that they were there to wear ugly dresses so that Aeryn looked that much more beautiful. DK managed to retain the coveted position of best man, because D'Argo was spotted for the tradition of giving the bride away. Aeryn hadn't asked what that signified; she just assumed that it was human nonsense, and ran with it. Most surprising of all was the job of ring-bearer, which John had given to his pet DRD, 1812, so that Pilot and Moya could participate in the wedding as well. Of course, it was worth all the troubles of planning and execution, wading through the media circus and the security problems, just to see Rygel in a hynerian-tailored tux. One got the sense, though, that Rygel and Noranti paid more attention to the wedding cake than the wedding itself.

John sorely wished that Zhaan could have lived to see this. She gave her life so that it could happen, though. She was here in spirit; there were few things in this universe that John was more sure of.

When the music started and Aeryn appeared, he remembered one of them.

D'Argo in a tux, now _that_ was another memorable sight, but it paled to mediocrity when set beside the vision of Aeryn Sun, badass ex-Peacekeeper tough-jirl of the universe, in the perfect, white wedding gown. Crichton couldn't help but think that he was the luckiest guy in this or any other galaxy.

The ceremony was simple enough, much as all the weddings in Earth's movies had been. They exchanged rings (and Aeryn noticed that the one John gave her now was more beautiful than the one he had placed on her finger after proposing - what she didn't know was that it had belonged to Leslie Crichton). They also exchanged vows.

"Aeryn Sun, from the day I found myself in a world more alien than I had ever imagined possible, you provided me with a center, a Sun to light my way, a constant, guiding star. We didn't always understand each other; we didn't always get along; but you stayed my constant companion, my best friend, my savior. We've visited worlds and skirted death, seen wonders I'd never dreamed of, and you remain the most wonderful thing in my life. I love you, Aeryn Sun, beyond all hope, and I will love you for as long the Sun shines down on us."

Aeryn was still far more eloquent in Sebacean than in English, but Sikozu was close by to provide a translation for the benefit of those listening. "John Crichton, when I first met you, I didn't know what to think. You were the most bizarre creature I had ever encountered, and I loved you for it. You told me then that I could be more than I was, though I didn't understand it at the time. Now I do. You've made me more than I ever thought I could be, because you showed me what it means to love and be loved. We crossed a galaxy to find each other, and I promise that I will never leave your side, for all the days of my life, because I love John Crichton."

They said their "I do's" and Crichton kissed the bride, and when he did, the applause from those assembled was loud and sincere. The ceremony done, everyone moved to the dining hall for the reception.

It was destined to be a hell of a party. Aeryn pitched the bouquet, and naturally enough, it was caught by none other than Chiana. John and Aeryn shared their first dance as husband and wife, and only finished when Rygel hovered over to the cake with the knife in hand... and all hell broke loose.

The cake flew off the table, knocking Rygel down, and Olivia Crichton screamed at the sight of what had knocked it over. The skreeth that had stowed away on Moya, invisible and noiseless, and followed the crew down to Earth on the transport pod, now made its presence known in an attempt to take John Crichton by surprise. The guests panicked, some rushing for the doors and others freezing in their tracks. Secret Service agents placed throughout the crowd took careful aim and discharged their 9mm pistols, but the bullets glanced off the skreeth's armored carapace with little effect.

John reached behind his back and drew out Winona, which had been concealed in the waistband of his slacks. In one fluid motion, Aeryn swept up her dress and drew her own pulse pistol, which had been strapped to her leg.

"You, too?" asked John.

"Of course," said Aeryn.

It was dangerous to be John Crichton or Aeryn Sun and go anywhere unarmed.

The skreeth recognized the more dangerous weapons and vanished from sight. Red electromagnetic pulses demolished the table that the creature had been standing in front of only moments ago.

"Where the frell did it go?" asked Aeryn.

"What the frell _was_ it?" asked Crichton.

Sikozu managed to stand up and cross over to where John and Aeryn stood, warily waiting for the monster to reappear. "That creature is called a skreeth," said Sikozu. "Both the Peacekeepers and the scarrans have been known to employ them as mercenary spies and assassins."

"Thank you for the trivia, Ms. Wizard," said Crichton, "but I'd really like to know how we kill it!"

"Not that way," said Sikozu. "Their skin is resistant to pulse-fire."

Then, Aeryn's pistol flew out of her hands and she was thrown across the room into another table. John lost his grip on his own gun, and the skreeth reappeared, right before beating John to the ground.

Aeryn pulled herself up and crawled to her pistol. She saw the creature standing over John with its back to her. Taking a moment to turn the weapon up to its highest setting, Aeryn took careful aim and fired a salvo of quick shots. The skreeth stumbled forward and howled in pain, burn marks appearing on its back, but it was far from wounded. It was distracted long enough for John to jump to his feet and go for his own weapon, though. Crichton leveled Winona and started firing shots of his own. The skreeth was caught in a crossfire, taking blasts from both John and Aeryn, too distracted by the pain to vanish again.

Then, Aeryn's pistol clicked and nothing happened. Likewise, John pulled the trigger, but no little red bolt of light issued from the muzzle. The skreeth focused its attention on Crichton again, moving slowly towards him and growling. "I, uh, don't suppose you have any spare oil carts on you?" John asked nobody in particular.

Aeryn was up in a flash, attacking the monster bare-handed, a series of kicks and powerful jabs. A Pantak jab connected with its head, but even that failed to lay the creature low. One slash from its claw, and a bloody swath was cut across Aeryn's midsection. The force of the blow also threw her into John, who fell to his knees, mouth open, looking into Aeryn's eyes. He held her tight, pressed on her wound in hopes of stopping the bleeding. "John..." she said.

"I'm here, baby. Don't... go..."

"I... love... y-" Aeryn's voice caught in her throat.

The creature bore down on Crichton, raising its serrated arms to strike. Then, the doors burst open, and in came D'Argo with his Qualta rifle charged and ready. A heavy, blue laser pulse hit the skreeth full on, causing it to stop where it stood. A second blast cut right through the creature, leaving a gaping hole in its midsection. It shrieked in pain, gurgled, and fell to the floor dead.

"Aeryn!" shouted Chiana, who leapt over a table and rushed over to the newlyweds. "Is-is-is she okay?"

Noranti came over and examined the cut. "It appears to be a shallow flesh-wound," she said. "I can make a-"

"No!" said Crichton. "I think we can do without your brand of brew, old woman."

Aeryn raised her arm and touched John's cheek. "Help me up?" she asked.

"Are you sure?" asked John. "Does it hurt?"

"Of course, but I can handle pain. I've had much worse." Hanging onto John, Aeryn rose to her feet.

Crichton looked around. The hall was in a shambles. The food and decorations were utterly ruined. The guests (including John's immediate family) were staring at the couple in utter shock. There was a dead skreeth in the middle of dance floor.

Aeryn took one look at the scene and said, "Just frelling married!"

THE END

* * *

**EPILOGUE:**

The rest of the crew had already returned to Moya. They waited only for John and Aeryn now.

"Are you sure about this, Son?"

"We've got to go, Dad. Earth isn't ready for this."

"If we find out where that thing came from, we can kill whoever sent it," said Aeryn, "but we can only protect this planet from out there."

In mere hours, his son would be gone again. Jack was desperate for ideas now. "We could guard the wormhole, put up a defense screen - nothing would get through!"

John just shook his head. It wouldn't work; they all knew that. "I'll come back, Dad. After things have quieted down, we'll want a place to settle back for a while. No better place than Earth for that."

Jack realized that John was resigned to leaving. He bottled up his fear, his sadness, and managed to say, "You be sure and tell my grandkids about me."

"Of course we will," said Aeryn. "They'll want to know who their father's hero is."

DK took John's hand and said, "Take care, bro. We'll hold down the fort here. Keep the TV warm, set you a place at the table, that kind of thing."

"DK, you're starting to sound like Aunt Ruth." In the Crichton family, that was how people called each other crazy. Or fharbot.

"You take care of my brother," said Olivia, embracing Aeryn. Livvy whispered into her ear, "I'm glad he married you."

"Me too," said Aeryn. The understatement of the cycle.

John hugged his dad one final time and they all said their last goodbyes. Then, John Crichton and Aeryn Sun, comrades in arms, 'Butch' and 'Sundance', husband and wife, turned away and walked towards destiny.


	2. The Whole Nine Cycles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diverges before "Eat Me," and while events do have a way of restructuring themselves so that the outcomes are familiar, much of season 3 and 4 can be ignored. It has been nine cycles since the Farscape experiment and John Crichton has not found Earth... but then again, he hasn't had much reason to look for it lately.

**Part One**

* * *

"Seriously," said Chiana with a heart-melting smile, "we _want_ to look after them. We've done it before, and you two need a break."

"Chiana's right," said the nebari's husband of four cycles, luxan warrior Ka D'Argo. "We love looking after Hope and J.T. They're always perfect little angles for us." _Angles_... D'Argo was pretty sure that that was one of Crichton's human words.

"It's 'anjels,'" said Aeryn using careful English. She had learned to speak her own husband's language cycles ago, if only because she wanted a better understanding of his insane sayings and metaphors. "And don't lie to us. The last time we let you watch the children, they made a mess of the galley, and Moya was attacked twice, first by a 'critter' and then by a scarran."

"Both of which we _did_ kill," said Chiana.

"Actually, _I_ killed," said D'Argo. "But that's beside the point. Nothing is going to happen this time! It's only for one weeken, and there are no monsters or scarrans or even Peacekeepers in this part of space. You two should go down to the recreation planet and enjoy yourselves."

"I hate to say it, Aeryn, but D's right," admitted Crichton. "We've been on this boat without any time to ourselves for a long while... I just may be getting a touch of cabin fever or space madness or whatever you call it out here."

Aeryn narrowed her eyes and John suspiciously. "What makes you think that?"

"Yesterday, Harvey popped out of the dumpster in a jack-in-the-box costume, and then he threw confetti and party streamers into the air, blew on a whistle, and told me that it was his birthday. He tried to get me to remember the cake I had on my own eighth birthday, so that he could blow out the right number of candles."

Aeryn raised her voice and said, "Pilot, have the DRDs fuel John's module. We'll be leaving in two arns."

"Make it one-and-a-half," said John.

* * *

The _Farscape I_ blasted off towards the recreation planet. John and Aeryn had reluctantly kissed their daughter and son goodbye before stowing their luggage in the module and taking off. Now five-cycle-old Hope Leslie Crichton stood waving goodbye while she held D'Argo's hand, and two-year-old Jack Talyn Crichton rested sleepily in Chiana's arms with his head set on the nebari girl's shoulder.

"Come on. It's almost sleep-cycle, and these two little fibbisks," said D'Argo, tickling Hope and making her giggle, "should be ready for bed."

"Aw," snorted Hope indignantly, "Mommy and Daddy _just left_! Can't I stay up just a little?"

Chiana made a wide-eyed face at Hope and said, "And what, let your mom come back and turn her pulse rifle on me and D'Argo when she finds out? Uh-uh, I don't think so, little nixa."

"We don't have to _tell_ her," said Hope. "And 'sides, we can put J.T. to bed now. He _wants_ to go to sleep."

The little boy, his eyelids only half open, shook his head and softly said, "Nuh-uh..."

D'Argo sighed loudly. "It's a shame," he said with practiced emotion, "because I was going to tell the bedtime story about the brave Earth Astronaut and the Princess of the Peacekeepers..."

Without another word, Hope took off down the corridor and headed for her quarters.

* * *

It was two solar days to the nearest commerce planet, so they would have plenty of time to stock up on provisions before heading back to pick up John and Aeryn. The energy of Moya's StarBurst dissipated, and she came out of hyperspace just on the edge of the commerce planet's system. The leviathan glided peacefully past outer gas-giants, towards the fourth rocky inner planet from the system's primary.

"I have fueled a transport pod for your use," said Pilot.

"Thank you Pilot," said Jool. "Tell D'Argo that I'm taking Rygel and Stark down with me, so that he and Chiana can look after the kids here."

"Very well, Joolushko." Pilot's hologram winked out.

"Be sure to get plenty of Nubellian herbal extract," said Noranti. "Oh, and Kryztlan greens, you mustn't forget those! Ah, let's see, and we'll also need some ukmlak, some rokoc sprouts, and... bother it, I might as well just go with you!"

Jool rolled her eyes. _Of course_ Noranti would be coming with them. At times, she felt as if it were impossible to get away from the aromatic old bag of wrinkles...

Pilot appeared on the viewer once again. "Captain Ka D'Argo, everybody, Moya has detected Peacekeepers entering the system - a Vigilante-class assault cruiser and full Marauder escort!"

D'Argo bellowed over the comms, "Everyone to command, now!"

* * *

Chiana rocked J.T. up and down as she tried to soothe the toddler, but he continued to cry anyway. Hope stood nearby, obviously frightened but trying to put on a brave face for everyone else's benefit. Rygel didn't bother hiding his apprehension, and Stark probably couldn't, so they were able to heighten confusion in the room by arguing over the best strategy for turning tail and fleeing.

"Pilot, can Moya StarBurst?" demanded D'Argo.

"Not this close to the planet's gravity well, Captain."

"Frell!" he swore.

"D'Argo!" snapped Chiana. The luxan looked embarrassed at having cursed in front of the children, but he wasn't about to apologize for it.

"Pilot, where is Moya going?" asked Jool.

Pilot blinked. "Moya is... heading towards the planet..."

"Why, why, why would she do that?" yelled Stark, drawing closed fists up to his cheeks and manically leaning back and forth.

Pilot's mouth fell open in surprise. "Moya appears to be attempting to copy one of Commander Crichton's maneuvers, using the planet's gravity as an accelerant!"

"C-c-can that work?" asked Chiana. "Will that help us get away?"

"It did once before," said D'Argo, "but there was something else about that maneuver..." His voice trailed off as he tried to remember what John had told him about the 'slingshot technique.'

An immobilizer pulse blast streaked by the front viewport. Without a moment to lose, Moya dove straight into the planet's gravity well, and then pulled off just before hitting the atmosphere. She gained speed, moving around the planet at higher and higher velocities...

"Pilot, I'm detecting something strange," said Jool. "The system's primary is giving off solar flares, and some heavy particle streams are coming our way. They seem to be interacting with the magnetic charge that Moya is building by flying through the planet's upper atmosphere..."

D'Argo's eyes went wide. "Pilot, tell Moya to pull away _now_! This is how John first opened a wormhole!"

"Captain!" shouted Pilot. "It's... too late!"

Hope pointed at the viewport. "It's gonna open!"

A swirling, blue twister appeared suddenly before the leviathan, and soon, Moya found herself hurtling through a tunnel in subspace...

* * *

D'Argo gazed out the front viewport. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"I'm sorry, Captain," said Pilot. "Neither Moya nor I have been able to recognize any of the nearby star formations, and all comms frequencies are silent."

"No comms?" asked Jool. "Was Moya damaged by that... wormhole?"

"No," said Pilot. "There are simply no communications within range. Moya is now scanning for any nearby system capable of supporting life."

"Well let us know when she finds something," said Chiana. The nebari hadn't said much because she had been looking at J.T. in pure wonder - the child had stopped crying as soon as the wormhole had opened, and he was calmly sucking on one thumb now.

"She has already completed her scans," said Pilot, "and there is one habitable planet nearby, three arns' travel away."

"Very well, Pilot," said D'Argo. "Let's find out where we are."

* * *

"The system is a complex one," said Pilot. "A debris cloud consisting of comets and planetoids, some of considerable size; then four gas-giants; an asteroid belt; and four inner planets. All of the planets are of diverse makeup and density, but only the third from its primary is capable of supporting life."

"Fascinating," said Jool. "A system such as this is an astrogeologist's dream! Will we have time to explore some of the outer planets' satellites?"

"Not if we end up having to spend the rest of our accursed lives in... whatever part of space this is," harumphed Rygel.

"Strange," said Pilot as Moya entered the system. "Moya is now detecting signs of advanced civilization on the third planet, including several low-orbit artificial satellites. However, they only appear to be making use of short-range, electromagnetic forms of communication."

Moya soon arrived at the third planet and settled into a high orbit. D'Argo looked out of the viewport, but said nothing.

"What?" asked Chiana. "It's just a little blue planet. I've seen a hundred just like it."

"I don't know," said D'Argo. "There's something familiar about it..."

"I know what you mean," said Rygel. "I feel as if we've been here before."

"That's not possible, if Moya doesn't recognize this part of space," said Jool, sensibly enough.

"Quite true," agreed Noranti, "and if you don't mind, I think we should see about going down to the planet as soon as possible. I still have an empty kitchen that needs filling!"

"All right," said D'Argo. "Pilot, is that transport pod still ready?"

"Captain," said Pilot, "I would advise against going down to the planet before we know more about it. Moya has become... confused. She says that she finds the planet and some of its audio signals familiar, in spite of the fact that the stars are completely alien to her."

"How is that possible?" muttered Stark.

"Fine," said D'Argo. "Keep running scans. We'll just wait until they contact us."

* * *

_"...that could, however, explain the origins of the Vulcan race," said Spock._

"I always wondered why there was so much humanoid life in the galaxy!" said Bones.

D.K. turned off the TV in the IASA lounge. "I never did like re-runs anyway. What do you think, Colonel? Would aliens look like we do?"

Jack Crichton had come down to Florida to visit D.K. He just grinned and said, "I'll tell you when I meet one."

Dr. Laura Knox, D.K.'s wife and colleague, snorted and said, "They wouldn't look like anything we could recognize or understand. Aliens on TV and in movies have to be played by humans, and they have to have human traits and feelings so that we can identify with them."

"So, you don't think there's any humanoid life out there?" asked D.K.

"How would it evolve?" shot back Laura. "Life on Earth was shaped by Earth. Life somewhere else could be totally different - we might not even recognize it as life, let alone intelligent!"

The phone on the wall interrupted their debate, and D.K. picked it up. It was Dr. Jim Bergan, a friend of D.K.'s who worked on the SETI project. Jack and Laura saw D.K.'s face turn ghost-white, and he muttered something inaudible before slamming the phone back onto the receiver. "Jack, Laura, that was SETI! Something _big_ just made high Earth orbit! We just might find out which one of us is right!"

* * *

"Captain D'Argo! We're receiving a transmission from the planet," announced Pilot.

D'Argo and Rygel were on command. "Put it through," said D'Argo.

The clamshell viewer flickered, and a fuzzy image of three sebaceans, two male and one female, appeared.

"Peacekeepers!" gasped Rygel. "We should get out of here now!"

"Quiet, Your Royal Slugness," hissed D'Argo. "Not all sebaceans are Peacekeepers!"

"He... hello?" said the younger of the two males.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" asked the female.

"Quiet!" said the older male. "We're the only ones here today, there's nobody else!"

D'Argo and Rygel looked at each other. "Definitely not Peacekeepers," said D'Argo.

"That doesn't mean we can let our guard down!" Rygel whispered back.

The younger male turned to his companions and said, "They're speaking two different languages, but they seem to be able to understand each other. I'm going to try something." He turned back towards whatever primitive transmission device he was using and said in a clear voice, "Can you understand me? Nod your head like this if you can."

D'Argo nodded slowly, while Rygel muttered, "Yotz, how backwater is this planet if its people don't even have translator microbes?"

"Don't have..." D'Argo turned to Rygel and stared. "Who do we know who didn't have translator microbes when we first met him?"

Rygel gasped. "You can't mean...?"

"That familiar blue planet," said D'Argo, "is Earth! Those aren't sebaceans - they're humans!"

D'Argo noticed that the three people on the viewscreen had gone silent. Hoping to improve communication between them, he asked, "Earth? Humans?"

"How the hell does he know _that_?" shouted the female.

"No clue," said the young male.

Rygel stared at the screen. "Now that you mention it... the older one looks quite familiar too... D'Argo, I think that's Ja-" D'Argo quickly clamped a hand over Rygel's lips.

"I think we've frightened them quite enough for one solar day, Rygel."

"What are they doing?" asked Jack Crichton.

"No clue," repeated D.K.

"This is getting us nowhere!" muttered D'Argo. "What do you think would happen if we sent down some translator microbes?"

Rygel rolled his eyes and waited for D'Argo to release him. "Well, if last time is any indication, they'll probably think we're trying to give them some sort of disease, and try to shoot us down."

D'Argo nodded and sighed in frustration. It was then that Hope wandered onto command in her nightclothes, rubbing one eye and dragging a blanket behind her. "Uncle D'Argo? I didn't get my bedtime story tonight!"

"Oh my God!" shouted Laura. "Is that a _little girl_?"

D'Argo looked at the viewscreen, and then back at Hope, and said to Rygel, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"By the hynerian gods, you're right! Hope speaks 'Human!'"

"Come here," said D'Argo, getting down on one knee. "Do you see the people on the viewer there?" Hope nodded, with a look on her face that was so serious that it was comical. "We think that you'll be able to talk to them if you speak your daddy's language for us. Can you do that?" Hope nodded again and grinned wide, thrilled to be doing something important and grown-up. "Okay then. First, tell them 'hello.'"

"'Kay," said Hope, facing the screen. "D'Argo says 'hello.'"

D.K. and Laura couldn't bring themselves to say anything. They were too shocked out of their minds to speak. Jack gathered his wits and said, "Well, hello there. What's your name?"

"Hope," she said.

"Well that's a very pretty name," said Jack. "And the big guy, his name is D'Argo?"

"Yup. And he's Rygel," she said, but then she gave a mischievous grin and added, "His whole name is 'Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth of the Hynerian Empire,' but we call him 'Sparky!'"

"Well, I never!" spat Rygel. Shaking his head, he turned his throne-sled around and moved to the door. "Good luck with... whatever you're trying to do. I'll go tell the others that we've had our usual luck: the rotten kind."

"Never mind him," said D'Argo. "Ask them that if this true, and that is Earth and they are humans, what cycle is it?" John had said something about wormholes being able to connect any point in spacetime. It would be bad if they were in the wrong cycle.

Hope again translated, which prompted Jack to ask, "What's a cycle?"

"Uh... three-hundred and sixty solar days," recited Hope.

"Oh... about a year then," said Jack. "You want to know the date? Here? It's June 23rd, 2008."

"Jack, will that mean anything to them?" asked Laura.

"Who knows? The girl does seem to speak English," said D.K.

D'Argo remembered that John had left Earth in 1999. He had made a big deal about how he missed the beginning of a new millennium on his planet, and that the year was going to be 2000 back home. If it was 2008 here, then John had been gone nine cycles, exactly the figure D'Argo was looking for. "Good," he said. "We didn't accidentally time-travel when we came through the wormhole."

"Out of curiosity," asked Jack, "why is the date important?"

Hope said, "'Cause we wanted to know if we came through the wormhole right. D'Argo says we didn't go back in time, so I s'pose that's good."

"Wait, you came here through a wormhole?" asked D.K.

"Uh-huh," nodded Hope. "It's the first time I've been in a wormhole, and it was really neat!"

Jack had another question, though. "How old are you, Hope? In years, or cycles?"

"This many," said Hope, holding up five fingers.

Laura shook her head, unable to take any more. "I don't believe... what kind of... what in God's name is a five-year-old human girl doing on an alien spaceship?!"

Before D'Argo could say anything, Hope shook her head and said, "I'm half-human, half-s'bacean."

"Half-human?" asked D.K. "Is that even possible?"

"Hope," said Jack, "can you tell us what a... 'spatian' is?"

" _Se-ba-cean_ ," corrected Hope. "A sebacean is... well, Mommy's one."

"Oh," said Jack, as if that were a perfectly logical explanation. "And... your daddy is human?"

"Uh-huh!" said Hope. "The only human who ever left Earth," she explained proudly.

"And who is he?" asked Jack.

Just then, Chiana came into command with J.T. toddling in front of her. The smaller child squealed and rushed over to D'Argo and Hope. "This is my little brother, J.T." said Hope.

"What does that stand for?" asked Jack, suddenly interested in the newcomer.

"Jack Talyn," said Hope. "He was named after both of his grandpas."

Jack sucked in his breath. "Do you... have a middle name?"

"Leslie," said Hope. "Daddy says she was my grandma."

"It couldn't be," said D.K. He was going pale again, and this time Jack and Laura were joining him.

Jack tried to find his voice. "Is your daddy's name... is it..."

He couldn't bring himself to finish the question, though, because the large, tentacled alien, the one called D'Argo, finished for him. He stood up and said with a nod, "John Crichton."

That was more than Jack could take. Blinking away tears, he shouted, "Where is he? Where's my son?!"

D'Argo could only shake his head and tell them, through Hope, "On another planet, somewhere on the other side of the wormhole."

Just then, a ringing sound interrupted the humans. Laura picked up the phone and after a while, hung it back up again. "That was the director of the IASA. We're to cut this transmission immediately, and not reinitiate contact until the government gives us an okay."

"Just... I have to ask... one more," Jack couldn't bare the thought of hanging up on his... good Lord, his grandchildren! John's kids! "Is he safe? Happy?"

D'Argo nodded yes to both, and Hope asked with wide eyes, "Are you my grandpa?"

Jack nodded. "I'm Jack Crichton," he said. "I'm your grandpa."

* * *

"Well damn it, people, we have to do _something_!" said Mr. Lawrence, IASA's directing chairman. "I just got off the phone with the _President of the United States_ , and the last thing he wants is for us to sit on this while the media runs wild!"

The panel of IASA scientists had been helicoptered to the space station, briefed on everything that they knew about the orbiting starship (which was very, very little), and shown the recording of the brief conversation between D'Argo, Hope, Jack, D.K., and Laura. Laura had thought it prudent to edit the final seconds of the tape, deleting Jack's final question and his answer to Hope's - there was no telling what kind of reaction that would get, and frankly, Laura didn't trust that big alien as implicitly as Jack and D.K. seemed to.

Dr. Bergan, who had been brought in as a liaison from SETI and a specialist in first contact protocols, said, "I'd like to talk to our first contact team. It seems strange, don't you think, that all three of them knew Commander Crichton, and that's exactly what the aliens claimed?"

"Well they _did_ all work here with Crichton before his... tragic experiment," said another IASA scientist, "but you're right. It's too much of a coincidence. These beings could have some sort of mind-probe, some way of telling people what they _want_ to hear. We just don't know."

"That's the problem, isn't it! We have no blasted idea!" said Lawrence. He hammered on an intercom and shouted "Send in Drs. Knox and Col. Crichton!"

Presently, the trio entered the conference room, and they were invited to take seats opposite the panel of scientists.

"Allow me to begin," said one of them, "by reminding everyone here that we have so little information to go on. These aliens, whatever they are, have mastered the ability to travel between stars, so we have no way of knowing how they are able to influence minds-"

"Oh, come on!" shouted D.K. "You think that was some sort of scam? That aliens just dropped in and decided to pretend that John's alive, for kicks?"

"The fact remains," said Dr. Bergen, "that you three are the only ones to have talked with these aliens, and you did all know John Crichton. It very well could have been a scam."

"Then why not have somebody else talk to them?" asked Laura. "See if they pull something different?"

Another scientist nodded. "Oh, we'll do that. But if they stick to their old story - a big guy with tentacles and a little girl who claims to be John Crichton's daughter-"

"Then that would make her my granddaughter," said Jack, "and I'd like you to consider... sending the three of us up on the shuttle."

"Not a chance," said Lawrence. "Look, Jack. I know they never found John's body or even a piece of the module, but you never really did let go... and neither did you, Dr. Knox."

"But what if they're telling the truth?" asked D.K. "How will we know unless we go see for ourselves?"

"Why not just have them land?" asked Dr. Bergan. "Then we can control the situation."

"Too risky to the environment," said yet another scientist. That sparked an argument among the eggheads that Jack and the rest weren't able to contribute much to; but as the colonel listened to scientists drone on about unchecked bacterial mutations, he starting running through a mental list of all the friends he had in high places who owed him one...

* * *

Dr. Bergan and special presidential advisor T.R. Holt waited for a reply to their transmission. Holt had been chosen to act as an ambassador to the aliens because he worked close to the President's cabinet, and was connected to the State Department. But '08 was an election year, and come November, somebody else would have his job... if these aliens stuck around that long.

The monitor flickered and came into focus. First, the image of a creature with a large face and a hard, purple carapace appeared. He said something completely unintelligible before manipulating a console with his... lobster claws? The view changed to what looked like the bridge of the ship, and there were the tentacled alien, D'Argo; the little girl, Hope; and a new one, a redhead who looked almost human except for some strange ridges on her high forehead.

"Hello?" said Hope.

"Hello," said T.R. "I'm T.R. Holt, and this Dr. Jim Bergan. What are your names?"

"I'm Hope, and this is D'Argo, and that's Jool."

"Well, Hope, is it okay if we ask you a few questions?" asked Bergan. The little girl nodded, and the scientist inquired, "Why have you come to Earth?"

"We got here by accident," she said. "We got shot through a wormhole."

"So... you have no intentions towards this planet or its people?" asked Holt.

"Well," said Hope, "I _would_ like to meet my grandpa and my aunts and cousins. And Daddy always said that I should try chocolate and ice cream and pizza, but not beer 'cause I'm too young, and watch Loony Tunes and Three Stooges..." Here, the large alien barked something in his guttural, echoing language. "...oh, and D'Argo says he wants to see Earth movies so that he can understand Daddy's jokes, and because he doesn't know who Yoda and Lou Costello are."

At this point, the redhead called Jool spoke up, and Hope got a bewildered look on her face, but tried to translate anyway. "Okay, Jool says that she wants to meet human scientists, 'cause she wants to know how humans, s'baceans, and interions are related. They all look alike and have a lot of the same DNA, and she thinks our spech... I mean, _species_ are linked."

Holt was amazed. This girl spoke with the same hint of a southern accent that John Crichton had in all the footage he had seen. What surprised him more, though, was the sense that these aliens were telling the truth. There was no hint of deception in their words, and what was more, they weren't coming up with some crazy story about one of _his_ dead relatives. Of course, that didn't mean that Holt trusted these beings any farther than he could throw them... "I bet we can arrange that," said Holt. "Are you planning on landing somewhere?"

"I dunno," said Hope. She looked at D'Argo. "Are we?" After a while, she translated for the luxan: "D'Argo says that we'll only come down if we won't get locked up or tested on."

 _Damn Crichton,_ thought Holt. _He must have warned them what would happen if they came to Earth._ "Well, I'll see what I can do. I'm going to talk to our government, and then we'll contact you again at this time tomorrow. Is that okay?"

D'Argo nodded, and Hope did the same, and then they cut the transmission.

* * *

Aeryn stretched and got out of bed, before strolling over to the balcony and looking out over the beach. Their stay on the recreation planet had been blissfully passionate, exactly what they had needed. John, in his usual glib manner, had come looking for rest and relaxation in sun, sand, and surf, and the planet had plenty of that... but it didn't take long for John and Aeryn to grasp the benefits of spending time in their hotel suite for arns on end as well...

And now it was over. Moya was due to arrive and pick them up in less than an arn. John was downstairs, checking out of the resort, while hotel employees placed their luggage on the module and fueled it for departure.

The bedroom door opened and in walked Crichton, wearing a set of the light-colored shorts and short-sleeved shirts that seemed to be in style with vacationers on this planet. John paused in the doorway and grinned when he saw Aeryn, who had actually taken to wearing the strapless, flower-printed dresses that females on this planet wore. She had been wearing them all weeken, but John still felt his heart melt and his knees give in when she faced him and smiled wide.

John practically bounced across the room to embrace and kiss his wife. "Well, babe, that's everything. The module's ready to go, and Moya's s'posed to be here in about a half an arn."

"Mm-hm," Aeryn nodded, resting her head next to John's for a short while longer. "This has been good - _very_ good - but I can't wait to get back to Moya. I can't help this feeling that something may have gone wrong."

"That's life on Moya, hon. But I'm sure D and Chi could handle it. Come on; let's get back up into space."

* * *

Two arns later, the _Farscape I_ had completed another lap around the system, and still no sign of Moya. "What do you think?" asked John. "Should we wait a little longer, or follow them to the commerce planet?"

Aeryn was too worried to even think about going back to the planet. "Let's follow them," she said. "If they weren't seen at the commerce planet, they might have been forced to StarBurst, and we'd never find them then. If that happens, we'll come back here and wait."

"Gotcha." Crichton revved up the plasma injectors, dialed the hetch drive up to 6, and rocketed out of the system.

* * *

"Well, well," said John, "It looks like our pals, the Intergalactic Rent-a-Nazis have been here." A solitary Peacekeeper Marauder was stationed in orbit of the commerce planet.

"I think you'd better let me take the controls," said Aeryn.

"No way," said John. "It's my module, and it was high time I saw what this baby could do." The last five cycles in the Uncharted Territories (and occasionally, Tormented Space) had seen a great deal of special modifications to the _Farscape I_. It didn't look like a research craft anymore, not with forward- and aft-mounted pulse cannons, a concussion missile tube on the ship's underside, a working Traltrian cloaking device, and the pride and joy of John's modifications, Tarkin shielding technology.

Before Aeryn could insist that she was the better pilot, John switched on the cloaking device and turned the module into a tight barrel-roll. He let loose with the pulse cannons and scored three solid hits on the Marauder's hull before their shields went up. The PK ship wasted no time in pulling out of orbit and firing a pulse salvo of its own, but the blasts that actually came close to the _Farscape I_ were all absorbed by its advanced shield. John continued to hammer the Marauder's shields with pulse-fire until a hole appeared in the defense screen.

"Now, John!" shouted Aeryn.

"Wait for it..." said Crichton, lining up his shot. The punched the missile, which streaked through space and impacted on the Marauder's engines. The Peacekeeper vessel drifted with its propulsion systems dead, but the hull intact. "Spot-on aim," said John. "Luke Skywalker couldn't have done better."

"You should destroy them anyway," said Aeryn. "They could send a transmission and call for reinforcements."

John sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Jeez, I hate killing people... it always comes back to bite me in the ass." Even as he lined up his target and prepared to hit it with the pulse cannons again, he was suddenly distracted by a familiar, pricking sensation in the back of his mind. There was a wormhole nearby, and it was about to become stable and open.

"John, look out!" shouted Aeryn. The wormhole's event horizon appeared directly between the module and the Marauder, and there was no way to avoid it.

"Hang on, babe - it looks like we're going for a ride!"

* * *

The shuttle's retrothrusters burned and slowed the vehicle to a halt as it approached the massive leviathan. In the forward cockpit, the shuttle's command crew, Commander Blackmore and Lieutenant Piers, stared in stark amazement.

"That's... big, Sir," said Piers.

"Yeah," breathed Blackmore. "So... any idea what we do now?"

Jack Crichton pushed his way up to the front of the shuttle. "Get on the horn and ask. Don't worry, they're listening."

"Right." Commander Blackmore punched a button on the radio and said, "Earth shuttle to... uh, alien vessel. Requesting landing clearance and docking procedures."

The answer came in the form of a series of rapid syllables, followed by a prompt translation by Hope Crichton. "Pilot says to stay where you are. Moya's docking web'll pick you up."

"Do you think that's anything like a tractor beam?" whispered Blackmore.

"I'd say that's a good guess," said Piers, when a green lattice of energy reached out from Moya's hangar bay and gently took hold of the shuttle. The Earth vessel was drawn into the immense hangar, and set down on a solid floor. Everyone on the shuttle could feel the pull of artificial gravity drawing them down.

D.K. came up behind Jack. "Artificial gravity... do you realize what this means, Jack? All the ill effects of living in zero-g don't matter with technology like this... we could explore our whole solar system, nearby stars... if they really have FTL..." D.K. was about two steps away from hyperventilating.

"Kid in a candy store," whispered Blackmore.

"And you're not?" shot back Piers. "We get to meet aliens!"

"You two get to stay on the shuttle while we meet the aliens," said Jack, "because we've got to make sure that they're the 'E.T.' kind of aliens and not the 'Aliens' kind of aliens. You hear me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Colonel."

"All right," said Jack. "Are you ready, D.K.?"

"You bet, Colonel. Let's go!"

* * *

Jack and D.K. gazed in wide-eyed wonder at their surroundings - a real, live alien starship. A series of soft beeps caused them to look down and see a tiny, yellow robot with lighted eye-stalks. It appeared to be looking at them.

"What do you suppose that is, Jack?"

The little robot spun around and rolled towards a corridor. Then stopped again and looked at them, waiting. "A tour guide," Jack replied.

They followed the DRD through several winding hallways, until it finally came to a halt outside one of the ship's oblong doorways, which stood half-open in the hall. Steeling their courage, Jack and D.K. walked through.

The room appeared to be a galley and dining room, with a central table and a round counter, which stood near cupboards and some sort of storage unit. A cacophony of different languages died down when the room's occupants, currently seated around the center table, noticed the newcomers. D.K. really was a kid in a candy store as he took in the sight of each alien in turn. There was the big guy, and the redhead, and the gray girl, and the little green man, and (though he could hardly believe it) John's kids. There was also an old three-eyed woman at the counter, who seemed to be holding a detached conversation with a man who looked human but had half of his face covered by a mask.

"Grandpa!" cried Hope, jumping up and rushing over to Jack.

"Hello, there!" said Jack, kneeling down. Hope didn't stop running; she barreled right into Jack, hugging him around the neck, and nearly knocked him to the floor. Jack could only laugh aloud; he was actually holding John's daughter!

Hope stood back and looked up at D.K. "Grandpa, who's this?"

D.K. kneeled down and said, "My name is Doug Knox, but everyone calls me D.K. Me and your dad were best friends when we were kids."

Hope's face screwed up with incredulity. " _You're_ D.K.?"

"Why? Did John tell you about me?" Hope nodded. "What did he say?"

"He says a lot that he missed you, even though you were a geek. What's a 'geek?'"

D.K. tried to keep a straight face. This girl was so _serious_ , but she certainly didn't hold back when she had something to say - and that was most definitely a Crichton trait. "Well, a geek is someone who's smarter than your dad."

"Oh. So Jool is a geek."

"Actually, Crichton calls me a 'nerd,' but I think that means the same thing," said Jool.

"I, uh, recognized 'Crichton' and 'nerd' in all of that," said D.K., "but as for the rest..."

"You need translator microbes," said Hope.

"Microbes?" said Jack and D.K. simultaneously.

"Yep. They col'nize in your brain and let you understand people."

"Oh," said D.K. weakly. "Maybe... I'll pass on the microbes for now."

"Well I won't," said Jack. "Shoot me up or whatever you have to do. I want to talk to everyone, and find out what John's been doing for nine years." It didn't take much cajoling for D.K. to give in after that. The DRD that had led them to the center chamber wheeled up behind them with its hypo of microbes and injected both humans.

"Knge'ifachubegin to work in a few microts," said the redheaded alien, Jool.

"Woah," said D.K. He still heard Jool speaking in her own language, but somewhere between his ears and his brain, he was able to merely understand what her words meant. "That is some technology."

"So," said Jack, walking over to the table where J.T. was happily munching on... something... "why don't you introduce yourselves, while I get to know my grandkids here, and then you can tell me about John?"

* * *

_Maintain focus... destination is key... the present time... back home to Moya..._

Subspace spat out the _Farscape I_ in the middle of nowhere.

Aeryn winced and shook her head. The ride through the wormhole had been rough. "John?" she asked. He wasn't moving. "John, wake up!" She carefully leaned forward and examined her husband. A tiny trickle of blood ran down his forehead. "Frell, you had to go and get a concussion _now_?" Aeryn bit her lower lip and realized that she had never been more worried in her life than she was right now for John. Peacekeepers, scarrans, critters, and god-like aliens... and a bump on the head might do him in for good.

Aeryn carefully moved John into the module's jury-rigged back seat, and took the pilot's chair. A quick scan of nearby star systems showed only one habitable planet; that made her decision easy. "We're going to that planet, John. And if you die on me, I'll frelling kill you!"

* * *

"Everyone," said Pilot, "Moya has just detected the _Farscape_ module entering the Sol System!"

D.K. jumped up. "Did he just say the _Farscape_ module?!"

"Is it John?" asked Jack to anybody who would answer.

"Give me a microt," said Pilot. "I'm receiving a transmission... it's Officer Sun. She requests that Jool meet her in the landing bay - Commander Crichton is injured."

* * *

Every last man, woman, and child on Moya raced down to the docking bay. Jack returned to the shuttle and told the command crew that they were all right, but should sit tight for the time being. Then he hurried back to join the others, just in time to see John's craft being drawn into Moya by the docking web.

"Are those... weapons?" asked D.K. as he gazed at the modified research vessel. Nobody answered; nobody had to.

The canopy popped open and out leapt a beautiful woman with raven hair, clad in black leather. She looked perfectly human; D.K. and Jack were a little surprised, in spite of the fact that Hope and J.T. had looked human as well. They really hadn't know what to expect in John Crichton's wife - what had the pilot called her, again? "Soon" or something very close to that, Jack was fairly sure.

"Jool, D'Argo, come here and help me!" Aeryn ordered. "John hit his head when we exited the wormhole, and-" Aeryn froze when her eyes fixed on Jack Crichton. "Frell me dead."

Jool pushed her way past Aeryn and took a look at John. "It looks like a concussion, but only a mild one. We need to get him to the infirmary."

Aeryn nodded, but her eyes were still fixed on Jack and the man next to him. "Who are you?" she asked coldly. She remembered wormholes and Ancients... but something didn't feel the same.

"He's my grandpa!" said Hope, rushing forward to embrace her mother. "And that's D.K., and they're _humans_ , and the planet out there is _Earth_!" Hope was still excited at finding Earth, but her face betrayed her apprehension. "Is Daddy gonna be okay?"

Aeryn held her daughter tightly and nodded. "Sure," she said. "Jool will take good care of him, and when he wakes up, we can all go visit Earth, okay?"

Hope smiled, but she noticed that Aeryn's eyes were tearing up. Aeryn was still worried about John, but she had a feeling that he'd pull through - he always did, after all - but when that happened, how would he react to his father, and to his homeworld? As Aeryn hugged her daughter, she vowed to herself, _I will never allow myself to lose him again, not to death, and not to any planet..._

* * *

**Part Two**

* * *

_It took Crichton a while to take stock of his surroundings. Something was very wrong. Hanging high over a wall on the far side of the room, a large sign read "Ozme Labs." Wait a minute... the sign wasn't just large, it was frelling huge. That's what was wrong with the room - compared to Crichton, it too was frelling huge. Well, that and the fact that it was an animated drawing._

John stood up. Apparently, his mind was in a funny mood today. He was standing in the middle of an oversized ratcage, and off to one side, Harvey (wearing a white rat-suit, no less) was running in a hamster wheel. "Gee, John," said Harvey in bad Australian accent, "what are we going to do this coma?"

"The same thing we do every coma, Harvey," said John with a maniacal glint in his eye. "Rehash a tired cartoon gag, and then...

try to take over my brain! _"_

Harvey stopped running and fell off of the wheel, landing in a heap at John's feat. "Narf!"

* * *

"AAAHHHHHH!" Crichton screamed as he woke up. He threw off the blanket and shivered - he was freezing cold, and sweating bullets. "God damn... I should've stopped watching cartoons after college."

John looked around. He was in Moya's infirmary. The last thing he remembered was being in the _Farscape_ with Aeryn, and then the wormhole, and then... nothing. "Please do not let this be an unrealized reality," said John. "If it is, I will be _very_ pissed at Einstein."

"Crichton?" Jool came in, and John noted thankfully that she didn't at all resemble a luxan. "You're awake!"

"More or less," said John. "How long was I out?"

"Four arns. Aeryn's been going magra-fahrbot the whole time. I had to throw her out of the infirmary so that I could work."

"Really? Are you _sure_ I didn't come out of the wormhole into an alternate universe?"

"That depends," said Jool. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were in the module, looking for Moya. She was late picking us up from the recreation planet."

"How can that be?" asked Jool. "You were supposed to stay for a whole weeken. It's only been four solar days."

"Some time compression could have occurred in the wormhole. Four days, give or take, is close enough. I guess this means I didn't create any unnecessary quantum realities." John leaned his head back onto the pillow. "What's the verdict, Doc? Any lasting damage?"

"No more than usual," said Jool, "but you should keep off of your feet for another couple of days. You did hit your head pretty hard. Aeryn had to pilot the module into the system. It's lucky Moya was here waiting for you."

John sat back up. "Luck, nothing. I navigated that wormhole with following Moya in mind. But that does remind me, what happened to you guys? Where did we end up?"

Jool simply smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry about it, John. Right now, you need rest. I'm sure D'Argo and Aeryn will come in later with the kids and tell you the whole story."

* * *

Jack sat with Aeryn and Hope in the center chamber, nervously waiting for word of John's condition.

"You haven't said much, Aeryn," said Jack in an effort to break the silence. "Why don't you tell me how you and John met?"

"That's a very long story," said Aeryn. "I've been with John since the very first day he came out of that wormhole. He dropped into our side of the galaxy, ruined my life, destroyed my career as a soldier, and naturally, I went and fell in love with him."

Jack gave a sort of half-smile that very much reminded Aeryn of John. "So it was love at first sight then?"

"Hardly," said Aeryn. "The moment I saw John, I threw him across a cell, knocked him down, and sat on him. I thought he was a deserter from the Peacekeepers; it wasn't until later that I found out he wasn't even sebacean."

"That must have been a shock to both of you, meeting an alien that looked like your own species."

Aeryn didn't say anything to that. She just looked down at Hope, whom she was cradling in her arms. The child was quiet for once, finally exhausted by the events of the past two days.

Jack, afraid that he had somehow offended Aeryn, said, "I didn't mean anything by that... I mean, I don't mind that you're not human, so long as John is happy. I just... is he? I mean, didn't he ever try to come home?"

"Of course he did! It was practically all he talked about at first... even when we got caught between the Peacekeepers and the scarrans and the war and the wormhole technology, John would always talk about taking me to Earth, so that I could meet you and his sisters and D.K. But after we got married and Hope was born, finding Earth wasn't the most important thing in his life anymore. He never gave up hope... frell, we named our first child after the _concept_... but he put his family ahead of finding his home."

"I can understand that," said Jack. "I guess I would have done the same if I were in his shoes."

"His... shoes?"

Jack didn't get a chance to explain, because D.K. rushed in at that point. "Jack, we've got a problem!"

"What is it?"

"It's Blackmore and Piers. They're not on the shuttle."

* * *

"Where do you suppose we are now?" asked Piers.

"It looks like some kind of hospital," said Blackmore.

Piers's eyes fell on the gurney in the middle of the room, still attached to what looked like a sort of scanning device. There was a man laying there, unmoving. "Holy mother of- it's John Crichton!"

"Really? Is he alive?"

The pair rushed over to where Crichton lay. He had a gash on his forehead that had been recently bound, but he didn't look too bad otherwise. That was actually unusual... he had been gone nearly ten years, but unless Piers was mistaken, Crichton hadn't aged at all... "He's alive all right," said Piers, "but get a load of that stitch in his head. Good God, what do you think those things have done to him?"

"I don't know," said Blackmore, "but we need to get him out of here, and then find the colonel and Dr. Knox."

Piers gave Crichton a light shake. "Wake up, Crichton! Can you hear me?"

Crichton heard him all right; he had only been resting. So when Piers touched him, Crichton was quick enough to leap off of the table and pull his pulse pistol out of its holster. "Who the frell are you?"

Piers raised both his hands. "Crichton, you know me. It's Piers - we worked in Australia together!"

"Right..." said Crichton. He was even speaking English... no sebacean that John knew could do that, except maybe Aeryn, and even she wouldn't get the accent right. "What about you?" He trained his pulse pistol on the other astronaut.

"C-Commander David Blackmore. I didn't join IASA until after you, uh, left."

This one was also speaking English, with a Chicago accent no less. John didn't know him, which meant that he couldn't have been pulled from his memories, but that still didn't necessarily make them humans. "How did you get here?"

"We came up on the shuttle," said Piers.

"Up to Moya?"

"That's right, Commander," said Blackmore. "May we put our hands down now?"

"Nope. Why don't you tell me what you're doing here?"

"We came to rescue you, Cricthon!" said Lt. Piers. "Orders from IASA - our job is to get you safely back to Earth."

"And exactly how do you plan on doing that, when Moya is...?" It was then that John realized he didn't know where Moya was, because Jool hadn't told him. "Oh, Pilot?"

Crichton's comm-badge came to life from the stand near the gurney. "It is good to hear your voice, Commander. Moya and I were worried when Aeryn told us what had happened."

"I'm okay, buddy, but never mind that. Where is Moya right now?"

"Orbiting your homeworld, Commander."

Just then, Hope bounded into the room. "Daddy! Guess what!"

John was quick to holster Winona before dropping to one knee to catch his daughter. "What is it, pum'kin?"

"He really thinks that's his daughter," whispered Cmdr. Blackmore. John heard him, but ignored the remark.

"I got translate for D'Argo, 'cause he couldn't talk to the humans, and I got to meet Grandpa!"

John's mouth went dry. "Grandpa?"

"It's true," said Aeryn, who lead Jack and D.K. into the room. As soon as D.K. had discovered the shuttle crew missing, Aeryn had asked Pilot to locate them with the DRDs. They hurried to the infirmary when the humans were spotted, but Hope had run ahead as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Hey, John," said D.K. "Long time, no see, ol' buddy."

"Son," said Jack, "welcome home."

Crichton didn't tear up. He didn't rush over to his friend or his father and hug them. He just stared, open-mouthed. "When... how?"

"The wormhole that Moya opened," said Aeryn. "It lead to Earth."

"How do you understand that gibberish?" asked Piers. He, too, went unacknowledged.

"It did, Daddy, it really did!" said Hope. "Can we go down and see Earth?"

"Maybe later, darlin'." John fixed his dad with an unwavering stare. "How did you get up here?"

"We hitched a ride on the shuttle - I had to call in some favors, but I wasn't about to let somebody go up and meet my grandkids in my place."

John nodded. He might as well accept that explanation, for now. So far, things seemed pretty real. No Ancients, no scarrans, no delvian mind-melds... so far. "All right. What do you say I get on the horn and talk to Earth?"

"I'd say not a minute too soon, John," said D.K. "We were worried about you, man!"

John grinned and finally consented to catch his childhood friend in a rough hug. "Aw, come on. I have to deal with aliens, critters, space-Nazis, and rejects from Star Trek scripts gone bad on a weekly basis, and you think a little knock on the noggin is gonna stop me?"

"Oy, excuse me," said Piers. "We're still under orders to bring you home, Commander, and if... you don't... uh, mind..." The angry looks he got from John, Aeryn, Jack, and D.K. shut the lieutenant up quickly.

"Let's get one thing straight right now," said John. "This ship and everyone on it - and that does include the ship, since Moya is a _living organism_ \- are more than just friends. They're my family. If either of you two try and pull anything, touch anything, _look_ at anything the wrong way, I will personally escort you out the nearest airlock. Do we understand each other?"

Cmdr. Blackmore answered before Lt. Piers could stick his foot in his mouth again. "Perfectly, Commander."

* * *

Crichton wasn't sure whether he should be terrified or ecstatic. The fact was, both feelings and then some welled up inside as he gazed at his home planet from command. The crews of Moya and the shuttle had assembled on the leviathan's bridge with him. "Okay, Pilot, we're ready," he said. "Attention, IASA. This is Commander John Crichton of the leviathan starship Moya. Please respond. Repeat, this is Commander John Crichton of the leviathan Moya, calling the International Aeronautics and Space Administration."

The clamshell lit up, and the picture showed Dr. Jim Bergan, T.R. Holt, and a mixture of grim-looking men and women in suits, labcoats, and military uniforms.

"I'm warning you, Crichton," said Rygel, "they're just debating whether to shoot Moya down before or after trying to dissect us like lab-animals!"

"Can it, Fluffy. Let's hear what they're selling." Crichton wasn't in any mood to hear Rygel's pessimism; he had more than enough of his own.

"Commander Crichton," said Dr. Bergan, "we were lead to believe that you weren't on board that ship."

"And I wasn't, until yesterday. Sorry to be unfashionably late to the party, but we _did_ just get here."

"We?" asked Holt.

"Yeah, me and my wife, Aeryn." As if to prove the point, John wrapped his arm around Aeryn and she in turn gripped his hand.

One of the scientists almost laughed aloud. "And here, we all thought that you had married an alien!"

"Who says I am not an alien?" asked Aeryn with wicked grin. Oh, these humans were going to be entertaining, she decided. A planet full of Crichtons, indeed.

"Well you do speak very good English for an alien," said the flustered scientist.

"John and I have been married for five _ye-ars,_ " said Aeryn, slowly pronouncing the unfamiliar measure of time. "Why do you think we would not learn each other's languages?"

" _You're_ an alien?"

"Sebacean," said Aeryn, narrowing her eyes at the scientist, daring him to challenge her again.

He didn't.

"Uh, 'scuse me, I've got one tiny, little question here," said John. "I need to know what _you_ folks can do for _me._ "

"Meaning what, precisely, Commander?"

"And you are?"

"T.R. Holt, special adviser to the President."

"Well... _T.R._... I'd like to come home, but before I do that, I have to know - no, I have to be _absolutely certain_ of a few things. I need to be sure that my friends won't end up on dissection tables so our biologists can play Dr. Frankenstein's Alien Autopsy. I need to know that I won't be locked in the ratcage for a few months while a team of overpaid shrinks try and figure out whether I'm still me. I need to know that my wife and kids won't be strung up by a mob of white-hooded rednecks. Am I asking too much so far, T.R.?"

"N-no, Commander, but... I, uh, we could have the National Guard and some MPs here when you land-"

"No military," said Crichton. "That's out of the question. Look, the Secret Service handles foreign VIPs, right? Well Moya's crew is about as foreign as they come, and to me, they are all _very_ important persons."

"I can't authorize that, but I can ask the President."

"You do that," said John, "and as for the landing site... we'll let you know."

A collective "WHAT?!" issued from the humans on the ground.

"Ah, trust me," said Crichton. "You'll know where we land; you'll probably see it on TV, if I do things right. And as for when... that'll be just as soon as our diagnostic-repair darters finish tearing out the shuttle's thrusters."

A collective **_"WHAT?!"_** came from every human within earshot of John Crichton.

"Well they can't rightly install plasma-ion thrusters and a hetch drive with the old chemical thrusters in the way, can they? Call it my little goodwill gift to IASA. You don't dissect my friends, and I upgrade your shuttle to FTL. I won't even charge you for new wiper blades and transmission fluid - you can't get a better deal than that."

Nobody spoke until an IASA physicist said, "Uh... gee, thanks."

* * *

News cameras from every major network had been turned out and pointed skyward. The immense, silent, and utterly alien spaceship had broken orbit and descended on a major human city. It was almost like _Independence Day,_ except that there was only the one ship, and it didn't exactly look like a flying saucer. Now Moya hovered above the building tops, while crowds of people in the city below ran in one direction or another - towards home, towards the fastest way out of the city, or towards Moya.

One reporter, gripping an earpiece and a microphone, faced his camera and announced, "Sources have spotted some sort of vessel leaving the alien craft... can we get a closer look at it? Okay, we have what appear to be two separate craft coming from the larger ship. One is some sort of... pod or shuttlecraft... the other is our own space shuttle, which you're all aware was sent up to make contact a couple of days ago. So far, IASA and the US government have insisted that they have no information regarding these aliens, but we do know that two of the men sent up on the shuttle were not regular IASA astronauts." Pictures of Jack and D.K. appeared on TV screens tuned to that particular network. "Colonel Jack Crichton, retired Apollo astronaut, and Dr. Douglas Knox, theoretical astrophysicist, accompanied the shuttle crew, Commander David Blackmore and Lieutenant William Piers, with no explanation from IASA... wait, wait, we're getting word that the pod and the shuttle are landing together... we have Chopper Team 5 standing by."

"Thanks, Phil. This is Chopper 5, live from the East Side, where the alien craft and shuttle are preparing to touch down in the middle of the street. City officials have set up roadblocks, and traffic is being detoured around the area. We've just gotten something else from one of our expert sources - the space shuttle is not designed to make the vertical landing you're witnessing now. In fact, it ought to be physically impossible, but obviously, 'impossible' doesn't apply today. Okay, the shuttle and the pod have landed... now we see what the aliens look like. The shuttle is opening... it looks like the commander and the lieutenant... and Colonel Crichton and Dr. Knox are emerging as well. They're turning towards the pod... and waiting."

After a while, the transport pod opened as well. D'Argo and Chiana came out first, followed by John, holding Hope's hand, and Aeryn, carrying J.T. Then came Rygel, Jool, Stark, and Noranti. Finally, though it went unnoticed by human and alien alike, little DRD 1812 buzzed down the ramp and followed loyally on Hope's heels.

"We can see the aliens now... Holy Mother of God... there's one with tentacles, and another with three eyes, and a little green man who floats... the rest look surprisingly human, except for the gray one... and there appear to be two small children in the party! It's amazing... perhaps now we'll find out why they chose to land here."

* * *

"Okay," said John, clasping his hands behind his back like a DI getting ready to drill the troops, "lesson number one on Earth culture is that food is very important here. We can't make a warp drive or a ray gun worth a damn, but we feed people better than anyone else in the galaxy. There's a saying on this planet, that the French and the Chinese have cuisine, and everybody else has food - so we'll swing Sparky by Paris and Hong Kong some other time. Right now, the lesson is on food. If you want something home-cooked, especially deep-fried, you head down south. If you want finger-lickin'-good barbeque, you go out west. But there are only two places on Earth to get good pizza, and contrary to popular belief, Italy is not one of them. The first place is New York, the true home of pizza. There, a slice is cracker-thin and as wide as your head. Then there's this place: Gino's East, the best deep-dish in Chicago. Ain't that right, Commander?"

"Right you are, Commander," grinned Blackmore. Eating pizza with aliens... it wasn't exactly what he had signed up for, but some days, being an astronaut was more interesting than he could have ever imagined.

* * *

"Uh... they appear to be going into the pizza parlor, Phil."

"Are you sure, Chopper 5?"

"I... I'm pretty sure. Colonel Crichton is holding the door for them."

"Well... are you going to go inside and interview them?"

"They were armed, Phil. The human look-alikes had pistols, and the big one was carrying a huge sword."

"A sword?"

"A sword."

"Not like a lightsaber or anything?"

"It was just a sword, Phil."

"Oh, for the love of- just stay there. The Channel 5 News Van will be on location in a few more minutes. I'll get that interview myself!"

* * *

"A... a... tah... tab..."

"A table sounds good," said John. "Our group's a little big for a booth."

The waiter nodded nervously. "R-r-right this way."

John looked around the restaurant. Most of its customers had already left in a hurry; the curious ones had stuck around, and now they were staring.

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" whispered Aeryn.

"It was the best I could come up with... no human being in his right mind would ever attack a pizza joint. We just don't have the heart for it." John tapped the waiter on the shoulder, which caused him to yelp and freeze in his tracks. "Hey... two kid's menus, okay? Hey Buckwheat, you don't want a kid's menu, do you? It comes with crayons... okay, okay, I was only kidding."

"I'll sit on this side of the table," said Stark. "This side, that side, my side, your side-"

"Can it, Freakazoid, and sit down," ordered John. Stark at once plopped down into a chair. The others gradually followed suit, with J.T. last of all, set on a booster-seat next to Aeryn. Hope immediately picked up a crayon and started doodling on her menu, while John went on to explain the nuances of pizza topping to his friends and family. "Aw, frell it. Hey, garcon! We'll take one large pie with pepperoni and sausage, one with plain cheese, and one with the works. That should start us off. If Rygel wants more, he can get his own. Oh, and a round of beers and a pitcher of coke."

After seeing the way these aliens seemed take their cue from the relatively normal-acting and -speaking human (despite the "Neo from _The Matrix_ look he had going on), the waiter seemed to gain courage, and didn't so much flee in terror as rush off to fill the order. The other people in the restaurant seemed to lighten up as well (after all, nobody was shooting at anybody, so they couldn't be all that bad). One of the guys sitting in the nearest occupied table to the one that Moya's crew now sat at leaned back in his chair directly behind Crichton and asked, "Are these guys really aliens? From that ship on TV?"

John thought about how to answer that for about two microts. "Hey, D'Argo?" he called across the table.

"What is it, John?"

"Do you see this breadstick I'm holding up?"

"Uh-huh."

"Tongue it."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Okay..." D'Argo's tongue lashed out and snapped the breadstick in two.

"Does that answer your question, pal?" John grinned and patted the stunned man on the shoulder, who silently let his chair fall back to the floor before scooting back up to his table and minding his own business.

Half of the breadstick landed near Rygel, who experimentally sniffed it, and popped it into his mouth. "Not bad... a bit dry."

"You do know that had luxan venom in it, right?" asked Jool.

" _Adaptive_ venom," said Rygel smugly. "I doubt it had to become very potent to knock out an appetizer."

"Actually, Rygel, my venom doesn't adapt its chemistry until it reacts with enzymes found in living tissue." D'Argo had a smug grin of his own.

"Oh," said Rygel. " _Now_ you tell... me... ZZZZZZZ."

"Great," muttered Chiana. "He's just gonna be hungrier when he wakes up."

"Plenty of time to fix that later," said John. "Pizza's here now. Dig in, guys - Earth's finest."

The waiters had just set the pies on the table and poured the drinks when the front doors burst open, and in walked a reporter and his camera crew. A cheap suit, an insincere smile, and poofed-up salt-and-pepper hair... everything about this guy screamed "anchor-wannabe." He strode purposefully to the table where Crichton & company had been just about to start eating.

"Pardon me. Phil Bronson, Channel 5 News. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions that the folks at home would love to have answered first hand..."

" _Aary'antuueiuw!iio'lawari_?" asked Aeryn.

"I'm sorry... I didn't catch that."

John rolled his eyes. "She said, 'can't you see we're eating dinner?' The interviews can wait another couple of ar- hours."

"And... who are you?"

"Me? I'm John Crichton. Who're you?"

"John... Colonel Crichton's son? You... you died nearly ten years ago!" Bronson turned to the camera and ominously intoned, "or _did_ he?"

"Uh... I believe I just answered that question. No, I didn't die. Now go away."

"Now, look here. I don't know who you think you are-"

"We _just_ covered that."

The reporter ignored Crichton's remark. "-but our viewers deserve their story, and they're going to get it! Now, are you going to talk to me?"

 ** _"No!"_** said everyone at the table, in English, Sebacean, Luxan, Nebari, Interion, Banik, and Traskan. The meaning was nonetheless perfectly clear.

"Hey Jack," said D.K., "do you get the feeling that John's gotten used to people following his orders?"

"You know, I have noticed that... Son?"

"It's kind of a long story, Dad."

"I can imagine," said Bronson.

Without missing a beat, John added, "...and Aeryn or D'Argo would probably tell it better."

D'Argo immediately picked up on John's meaning, and (much to the bewilderment of the news crew) said to Jack, "Your son is something of a... celebrity in the Uncharted Territories and in civilized space. He gained a reputation, sometimes honestly and sometimes through no fault of his own, as 'the fearsome alien who looked sebacean but wasn't, who leveled planets and bases and destroyed starships.' The Peacekeepers saw him as the Scourge of the Uncharted Territories; the people they had conquered thought of him as more of a folk hero."

"So what, you're some kind of a space cowboy?" asked D.K. "Marshall Dylan with a ray-gun?"

Aeryn smirked and prodded John in the side. "What was that you once said when I asked you what a 'cowboy' was? 'Yippie-kai-yay, mother-frellnik?'"

"Actually, that was from _Die Hard_ ," said John. "Loosely paraphrased to fit the circumstances." Since Jack and D.K. were the only ones in the room who understood both the reference and Aeryn's language, they were the only ones to burst out laughing. D.K. was caught at a bad time; he snorted beer out his nose.

D'Argo went on. "After war broke out between the Peacekeepers and the scarrans, we were caught in the middle of it. John and his wormholes did nothing less than _save this galaxy._ He's called the Hero of the Peacekeeper Wars out there, Colonel. He's famous, and very few people _don't_ do what John Crichton says, believe it or not. Whatever you think, though, you should be very proud of your son."

"There's no question that I am," said Jack with pride.

Bronson rubbed between his eyes and sighed in frustration. "All right," he said, interrupting their conversation, "let's make a deal, Mr. Crichton."

"Commander."

"Whatever. Why don't you tell me the names and... uh, kinds of each of your friends here. Then I promise to leave you alone for now."

"Fair enough," said John. "The vision of beauty in leather sitting next to me here is my wife, Aeryn Sun. She's sebacean. That makes Hope and J.T. half-human, half-sebacean, not that there's really any way to tell. The big guy is Ka D'Argo, a luxan, and the gray girl is Chiana, a nebari. They got married about a year and a half after me and Aeryn. Sleeping beauty here is Rygel XVI, former dominar of the Hynerian Empire. The redhead is Jool-"

"Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis."

"Yeah, what she said. She's an interion. That's Stark, he's a banik, and that's... uh... what was your name again, Old Woman?"

"Utu-Noranti Pralatong."

"Yeah, that was it... she's a... a..."

"Traskan."

"Right. Traskan. Whatever that is." John shrugged his shoulders. "Is that enough for now?"

"Just one more," said the reporter. "Your ship, does it have a name?"

" _Her_ name is Moya. She's not just a ship, she's a leviathan. Alive. Self-aware. Intelligent. Oh, and unarmed, too. No death rays or bombs or anything. You can tell your viewers _that,_ so they can stop accusing us of being an invasion fleet or somethin'."

"Then... why are you here, Commander?"

"To eat pizza with my family. I thought that was frelling obvious..."

* * *

_"Earth. Terra Firma. For so long it had been my dream, my goal. I always thought that I would come home, and there would be secrets, conspiracies, government agencies. Instead, it's lawyers, press agents, politicians, and corporate executives. Photo ops and interviews. It took a while, but things have finally settled down. Now that we're staying at the cabin in Maine, the press has sort of left us alone._

"I can't say the same for D'Argo and Chi. They love the attention. Last I heard, they were jet-setting around Europe, living the good life of wining-and-dining celebrities. I wonder when they'll get tired of that and just go back to what they know: shooting and snurching.

"Rygel and Granny... not much to say there. They're in gastro heaven. Rygel wants to move to Hershey, Pennsylvania. Noranti seems to prefer the food in Thailand. Sparky's actually been talking with the Joint Chiefs and a couple of big-wigs in the UN, looking for troops to help retake his throne; he's promising defense and trade pacts with Earth if they make him a dominar again. The funny thing is, he'd probably honor those pacts.

"Jool really hit it off with the suits at IASA. If there's one thing that Red loves more than anything else, it's being the smartest person in the room. If anybody can teach humans about the technology out there, it's her. D.K. and Laura warmed up to Jool pretty quick... nerds of a feather. And talk about D.K. getting married! I never saw that coming... but when I said so, he just looked at me and said, 'No way, John. You came back from outer space with a hot wife and two kids, so

I _can be surprised. You don't know what surprised is, buddy.' I can't say that I blame him._

"They all have plenty of tech to work with, now. There's the drive I had Pilot put in the shuttle, but that was just for starters. The wormhole opened up a few days after we landed, and a Vigilante came through with a couple of Marauders. Everybody freaked out until we went up to Moya and took a closer look; the ships were dead. We brought them on board with the docking web, and the crews were goo. The DRDs did a little cleanup job, and voila, new toys for IASA. Merry frelling Christmas.

"As for Stark, I can't say he's having an easy time. He's getting worship and praise from the UFO cults, fire and brimstone from the conservative zealots, and psychoanalysis from everybody else. He'll probably go back up to Moya soon.

"As for me, Aeryn, and kids, we're going fishing. Maybe now, they'll understand what I was talking about all those cycl-"

"Hey, Space Cowboy." Aeryn slid up behind John and kissed him. "Isn't this supposed to be our weeken off? No work, no papers, just us."

John closed the notebook. "I was just writing. You're right, though. We should enjoy this time while we've got it. My sisters are flying up in two days."

"I'm actually looking forward to meeting them," said Aeryn.

"Yeah, but Hope is practically bouncing off the walls. When she found out that she had cousins, I couldn't get her to stand still!"

"The kids are still with Jack?"

"Swimming at Sawyer's Pond."

"Then we have the cabin to ourselves for a while, don't we?" Aeryn grinned seductively and pulled John up by his shirt collar. Then, she turned around and walked suggestively away, leaving John without a thought in his brain other than, _God damn, she looks just as good in denim as she does in leather... and twice as good without either._ He didn't have to be a rocket scientist (even though that is, in fact, what he was) to see the wisdom in running after his wife, catching her up in his arms, and carrying her into the cabin.

**THE END?**


	3. Modifications

 

"HEY, D'ARGO!" shouted Hope over the comms. "Come down to the maintenance bay! I have something to show you!"

In the hamman-side docking bay, a youth of fifteen cycles, clad in black leather, slid out from under his Prowler and tapped his own comms. "I'm kinda busy, sis. Mom said that I have to finish checking the Prowlers' pulse cannons by dinner."

"Aw, come on!" pouted eleven-cycle-old Hope. "It'll only take a few microts, and it's _really_ drad!"

D'Argo sighed and set aside the toolkit. There was no point in arguing; Hope took too much after her father.

* * *

"Well?" asked D'Argo when he arrived. "What's so important that you had to drag me-"

"Away from your precious Prowlers and pulse cannons, L.D.?" teased Hope. The girl had grease and grime on her face, except around her eyes, where a pair of goggles (which were momentarily pushed up onto her forehead) normally sat.

"Don't call me that," said D'Argo sourly. "L.D." stood for "Little D'Argo", and he hated being called "little".

"Aw, you're just sore that you might not get to fly or shoot anything today," said Hope. _He's such a soldier,_ she thought, _so much like Mom that it scares me._ She turned back to the workbench, set the goggles back over her eyes, and made a final connection with a micro-torch.

_Uh-oh,_ thought D'Argo. _What's "Daddy's little tech" up to now?_ He peeked curiously over Hope's shoulder at the collection of parts on the workbench. They were disassembled pulse pistols, he noted right away, most of them pretty old. In fact, they were the obsolete Peacekeeper field-issue model, the kind that fired a plasma blast by releasing a drop of chakan oil into the pulse chamber and heating it with a high-powered laser pulse. Being totally worthless against scarrans, they all but disappeared during the Peacekeeper Wars. "Hope," said D'Argo, "where did you find these old guns? The only prewar pulse pistols left on board Moya were..." _Oh, no,_ thought D'Argo. _Please, God, or any gods who are listening, please don't let it be..._ "That's not Winona, is it, Hope?"

The girl just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Maybe. I found it in Dad's room."

"But I - you didn't - I mean - I don't believe this!" shouted D'Argo. "Dad is going to freak out, do you hear me? _Freak. Out._ This is... this is worse than the time that you took apart the _Farscape's_ hetchdrive!"

"Dad didn't complain when I put it back together and added a StarBurst chamber."

"This is worse than the time that you 'modified' 1812 and gave it to baby J.T. for his first birthday!"

"Every kid deserves a pet."

D'Argo snorted and said, "Hope, thanks to you, Moya is the only leviathan in the galaxy with a red, white, and blue, _puppy-shaped_ DRD that sings and barks and walks on four legs instead of chirping and rolling on wheels."

Hope just smiled and said, "Yeah, that _was_ pretty awesome, wasn't it? But check this out: it's way cooler!"

D'Argo looked down at the finished product in Hope's hand, pulse pistol emitter set directly atop a modified handgrip and trigger. The object was no longer pistol-shaped; now it looked more like a flashlight. "You snurched Dad's favorite gun... so that you could _straighten_ it? Why in hezmana would-"

Then Hope pressed the trigger.

D'Argo cried out and jumped back when a yellow blade of light, at least a motra (or thirty denches, depending on how you measured) long sprung forth from the emitter.

"Watch this!" Hope gleefully shouted over the hum of the blade. She brought the weapon down and sliced cleanly through the workbench, cleaving it into two neat pieces that fell over with a clatter. Then, the glowing blade flickered a few times, sputtered, and died. "That's the only problem," said Hope. "After about fifteen microts, the cartridge runs out of chakan oil."

D'Argo just stared at his little sister with his mouth hanging open. He had seen her accomplish some amazing feats of technological wizardry, but pulling something out of _Star Wars_ and then actually building it was entirely beyond his comprehension. "You built a lightsaber. You built a frelling lightsaber!"

"It's still not finished," said Hope. "I need to find a power-source that'll sustain the blade for longer than a fraction of a minute, but even so, isn't this just the draddest thing you ever seen? I can't believe I got it working!"

"I can't believe you haven't lost a hand!" shouted D'Argo. "This has got to be the most _dangerous_ thing I've ever seen! What in the living hell do you need with a lightsaber?"

"I just-"

"I'll tell you what you'll need it for! Fighting off Mom and Dad when they find out what you've done!" D'Argo shook his head in utter bewilderment. He turned around and headed out of the maintenance bay, muttering, "I can't believe she 'modified' Winona to make a frelling lightsaber..."

Hope wasn't entirely sure that she believed her brother's tirade. _Why would Dad care about some old pulse pistol, anyway? And besides, he loves those movies as much as I do._ Hope grinned, picked up her new toy, and bounded off down the halls of Moya, looking for her father.

* * *

The End


	4. John Crichton Has a Rather Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why? Because I'm twisted and I like messing with people, that's why.

 

**Johannes Crichton Diem Pejorem Habet**

_(Caput Primum)_

Olim Johannes Crichton astronauta humana et Kaus Dargus bellator Luxanus in taberna ad planetam commerciam requiescebant. Tres dies soles transiverat postquam Traltixx creatura aliena devicta est. Nunc Johannes Dargusque celebrabant et laxabant et "jaculatores fomes aeronauticos" bibebant. De aliis, Æryna et Ciana obsonare aliquo iverant; Rygelius cum mercatoribus paciscebat; et Zahanna in Moya manebat. Igitur Johannes et Dargus non occupati erant.

Johannes Dargo dixit, "Tibi ajo, amice, Kirkus et Spoch hanc merdas numquam tractandi fuerunt."

Dargus rogavit, "Quidne significas?"

Dixit Johannes, "Significo, Darge, totum cum creaturis alienis hujus _drenis_ ; hos incursos in Moyam. Deinde, ullæ creaturæ in Moya non admittemus."

Dargus fremuit. "Creaturæ numquam admittimus. Quoquo modo veniunt."

"Quidquid," Johannes dixit. "Traltixx mea culpa non fuit." Is in ejus sella languide incessit et bibit.

Repente fragor fuit. Post eos, Johannes et Dargus vocem asperem audiverunt. "Quis unus tui Johannes Crichton est?" Tum sonitum sclopeti pulsi parati audiverunt.

"Heu merda," Johannes suspiravit.

"Idem _dren_ , diversa planeta?" Dargus rogavit.

"Omnis _frellens_ planeta," Johannes dixit.


	5. The Farscape Future Series, Part 1 - Quid Erit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: After "Bad Timing." Written before "Peacekeeper Wars" came out.  
> Spoilers: Nothing specific, but might mention anything from the regular series.  
> Warnings: Looking back, this fiction is just too tidy and happy to really feel like "Farscape." I apologize for that.

 

**Chapter 1: The Old Switcheroo**

Hope Leslie Crichton gazed unblinking at the strange being hovering over her. This bizarre creature - this human - was still making funny faces and cooing noises whenever he came near her. Hope, being a mere three monens old, didn't mind this of course. In fact, she rather enjoyed it, particularly since the bizarre creature in question was her father.

Crichton knew all of this, though Hope was quite incapable of telling him so, for obvious reasons. One might call it father's intuition. He only really needed to see the wonder in those beautiful, blue eyes and that incredible, tiny smile. And man oh man, did that baby have one heck of a grip - Crichton was starting to lose some of the feeling in his finger. This kid would probably grow up to be a lot like her mother.

A certain sebacean woman was standing in the doorway of the cell-turned-quarters, regarding the human while the human and the baby regarded each other. "Well, kiddo," drawled John, "I've been putting off this little heart-to-heart for a while now. I was waiting until you could talk back... but here it goes anyway: I wish I could say that your life will be easy. The fact is, though, it won't be. Out here in the Territories, it gets pretty dangerous. And back on Earth you wouldn't have it much better. All I can tell you is that you're surrounded by people who love you very much and will do everything we can to keep you safe. Especially your mom - she's tougher than Xena and Buffy put together."

John felt a familiar sensation as Aeryn slid her body up to his; Crichton wrapped his arms around his wife and drew her into a light embrace. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Long enough," said Aeryn. "Have I told you that I love you today?"

"Hmm... nope," said Crichton, drawing Aeryn closer.

This made Aeryn laugh and mutter, "Stupid frelling human," as she kissed her husband.

"What was that?" asked John.

Aeryn, in a voice that wasn't entirely her own, whispered into John's ear, "I said: wake up, human."

* * *

"Wake up, human."

Crichton groaned. "What the hell...?" he mumbled. Where were Aeryn and the baby? No, wait a microt... that had been two weekens ago. Where was he now? His eyes slowly opened. There was lots of gray - gun-metal gray. And red and black, the only colors breaking up the monotony. "Peacekeepers..." John slurred.

"That is correct, Crichton," said the feminine voice. "You are on Captain Braca's Command Carrier."

It didn't take John long to place the voice. "S... Sikozu?"

"Yes, Crichton. Just relax; the disorientation will pass in time."

_Frell that,_ thought John. He turned to get up, but found that he couldn't move. "Sputnik! Why am I tied down?" John twisted his body in hopes of loosening the straps on the table and getting a good look at where he was. The room was small; it was obviously a medical facility of some sort. Its only other occupant was that annoying kalish spy... and Scorpius, unconscious, strapped to a platform next to Crichton. "Sikozu, what the frell is going on?!"

"Crichton!" snapped Sikozu. "You are still experiencing the after-effects of the sedative. Both you _and_ your memories will be recovered within the arn. I'm going to release you now, but only if you promise to remain calm!"

John nodded meekly and let Sikozu undo the clasps. John's first instinct was to leap off the table and go for the kalish's throat... but he could only let out another weak groan when he realized that his arms and legs didn't want to move. Crichton's hand drifted slowly to his hip... no pulse pistol, either - no such luck.

"Now," started John, "I think you'd better start explaining-"

"First, I'm going to revive Scorpius," said Sikozu gently. She carefully administered a syringe of counter-sedative to the half-scarran and untied him. "He should awaken soon. Then we'll see if the genetic modification was successful."

That hit Crichton like a ten-ton Ozme safe. " _Genetic modification_?"

"Yes, Crichton," said Sikozu with typical exasperation. "That is why you are here. This is a genetics lab."

_Oh God_ , thought John, _were they frelling with my DNA_? "Sputnik, listen carefully and answer me: who gave and who got?"

"What do you mean, Crichton?"

"Whose DNA was modified, mine or Captain Cadaver's?"

Sizoku blinked in surprise. "Um... both of you underwent a procedure."

" _Sikozu!_... what... procedure?"

Scorpius coughed and turned onto his side. "P-permanent genetic modification, John," he managed to croak out. "Your human genome has hopefully provided a cure for my heat delirium."

Crichton narrowed his eyes at Scorpius. "Say again?"

Scorpius sat up on the table and met John's gaze. "I have been searching for a means of attaining thermal stability without the need of a coolant suit. Genetic modification showed promising results, but finding a compatible genome was difficult. I tried luxan DNA first, but it proved incompatible with my scarran genes; most other species were incompatible with sebacean DNA. The modifications were often successful, but temporary. I needed to find a genome that was compatible with both scarrans and sebaceans."

"And so you needed your friendly neighborhood human to drop in and donate some genes, is that it?" John tried to keep his voice even, but the look of fear that briefly decorated Sikozu's face told him that he wasn't doing a very good job.

"That is it precisely," said Scorpius. "However, I think you'll find the trade most equitable. Initial scans showed some very... intriguing information."

"Like what?"

Sikozu opened a folder and examined a stack of printouts. "Well for starters, you'll be happy to know that there is no sign of Ancient DNA in your genome. Nobody has given you any artificial genetic memory, either. Your wormholes are in your head, and nowhere else."

Crichton had already suspected that, but to know it was a relief. It meant that his kids wouldn't have to carry his burden. It meant that Scorpius really couldn't just suck wormholes out of his DNA. "What else?"

"Well, even though your nuclear DNA clearly shows humans to be a unique species, one of the geneticists grew curious and decided to examine the sequence of your mitochondrial DNA. She found an average difference with sebaceans of only 15 gene locations."

Crichton was stunned. That was even closer than humans and neanderthals... it wouldn't be possible, not unless... "Sputnik, are you sure?"

"We would need to examine more humans to gather an accurate sample, but for the moment, we can safely conclude that humans and sebaceans are more closely related than anyone suspected."

"Groovy," was all Crichton could say. _Must be the sedative, if I'm quoting_ _Evil Dead_ , he thought. _No, wait a second. There's something else. If they only took scans, I shouldn't feel like dren._ "Care to tell me something I won't read on a cereal box?"

"That's all the pertinent information-"

John cut her off with his slow, unnerving tone. "Somebody tell me... did you frell with my DNA?"

Before Sikozu could say anything, Scoprius answered, "Yes, and no."

John growled angrily and heaved himself up. He wobbled a little, but managed to stand. "Scorpy... straight answer... now."

"As I'm sure you know, nuclear DNA is composed of exons and introns. Exons are the regions of DNA that code for traits - genes. Introns have no function, but they do impact how a species ages. We have not altered your genes, but your introns have been rearranged using a sebacean template. If you take care of yourself, you should live for another two-hundred cycles."

Crichton was growing dizzy. He sat down on the table and gripped his head in his hands. Once the room stopped spinning, he looked up. "I didn't ask for that... why did you..."

"As I said, your genetic traits remain untouched. You are still John Crichton, still human. I have merely extended your lifespan - consider it my gift."

_"You frelled with my damn DNA!"_

Scorpius merely shook his head. "Think what I have given you, Crichton. Would you prefer to grow old and weak and then die in another forty cycles - and leave Aeryn Sun alone?"

Crichton sneered. "Somehow, I don't think you had my love-life in mind. I think you wanted another insurance policy." When it became obvious that neither Scorpius nor Sikozu understood, Crichton continued. "Without a mother plant, the scarrans can't invade for another hundred cycles. You're making sure that I live to see the day."

Scorpius smiled wide, a look that still sent shivers down John Crichton's spine.

* * *

D'Argo was waiting in one of the Command Carrier's docking bays. He paced in nervous circles around _Lo'la_. Where the frell was Crichton? If they were planning to imprison him again, in spite of High Command's pardon, some of these Peacekeepers would soon find out what it feels like to have a Qualta blade jammed up their...

"D'Argo!"

"Crichton? What's going on here?"

"I'll tell you on the way back to Moya. Apparently, I'm now the Dick Clark of the Uncharted Territories."

D'Argo didn't bother to ask for an explanation. Earth jokes, he decided, didn't have to mean anything to anybody but the person saying them. "So does that mean that the Spaceballs didn't hurt you?"

Crichton looked at D'Argo, startled. Then he looked around at some of the armored Peacekeeper guards. "They do kind of look like Spaceballs, don't they?"

"Indeed," said D'Argo with a grin. "Your Mel Brooks is a genius. Earth science fiction is nothing like life in space, and somehow he knew just how to make fun of it."

Somehow, Crichton decided, D'Argo had missed the point. "Yeah, well, let's go. And by the way, his best was _Blazing Saddles_."

"I saw that one!" said D'Argo. "As an indictment of bigotry, it really meant something to me."

"How many of those movies did you watch?"

"Um... _Young Frankenstein, High Anxiety, The Producers_..."

"Right. You need to lay off the Mel Brooks movies. Watch some Three Stooges."

"Never mind, John. This place makes me nervous; let's just get the hez out of Dodge."

"I hear ya, D. Couldn't agree more..."

* * *

**Chapter 2: There's Always Room**

"SPARKY!" Crichton shouted over his shoulder. "This is all your fault!" His pulse pistol was drawn and he was creeping along one of Moya's innumerable corridors.

Rygel hovered beside Crichton, a tiny holdout pistol in hand. "Don't blame me, you fek-face!" retorted Rygel. "We were both on that commerce planet together, and you agreed with my choice to purchase the-"

"Agreed, nothing! I just said that it kinda looked like-"

John didn't get a chance to finish his argument. Aeryn's voice came over the comms and cut them off. "I've spotted it - it's on tier 3, heading towards the maintenance bay! By Cholok, that thing is fast..."

John and Rygel shot each other instantaneous looks of pure venom, and then took off down the corridor as fast as they could move.

* * *

John could hear the pulse blasts demolishing the maintenance bay, but there was still no sign of their intended target. Finally, Aeryn came sprinting into the hallway, pulse rifle in hand. She was forced to pull her weapon up and skid to a halt in front of a very surprised Rygel and Crichton. "It... came... this way," she panted.

"I didn't see anything," said Rygel.

"Me neither," said Crichton.

Suddenly, Aeryn's eyes went wide. "John, above you!"

Crichton only had enough time to look up and see the little green ball of slime fall from the ceiling. It landed hard on Crichton's head, knocking him to the floor; then, lightning-quick, it bounced off and grazed Rygel's throne-sled (causing the sled to spin in dizzy circles). Ricocheting off a bulkhead, the ooze barreled into Aeryn's chest and knocked the wind out of her before finally bouncing down the corridor and out of sight.

"That," John groaned, "is the third time today I've been beaten up by a Jello mold. It's starting to get embarrassing."

Aeryn shouldered her rifle and moved to help John up. "Whatever possessed you two to buy that thing?"

"Don't look at _me_ ," protested John. " _Rygel_ bought it!"

The hynerian, meanwhile, was still trying to make his hover-sled stay in one place. When he finally stabilized himself, he snorted haughtily and proclaimed, "I paid for it, yes, but you're the one who spotted the thing and said it looked like an Earth dessert."

Crichton glared at Rygel. "I'm not the one who _tasted_ it and decided to bring it on board for a midnight snack!"

"Never mind!" shouted Aeryn. "Let's just find it and kill it, before it damages something."

"Or eats someone," muttered John.

* * *

The sound of pulse fire brought John, Aeryn, and Rygel running to a treblin-side corridor on tier 4. Chiana was standing there, pulse pistol pointed down the hall. She wasn't moving, but her lips quivered and her eyes were wide with shock. "H-h-hey Crichton, how big did you say that _'dzhel-lo'_ was?"

"I don't know, fifteen denches maybe? Why?"

"Because, you frellnik, I just shot the thing and instead of dying, it got about twice that big!"

Aeryn's face screwed up in disgust. "It frelling _eats_ pulse fire?"

"It's probably such a simple life form that it can feed right off the energy," John theorized, "like something straight out of _Star Trek_. We'd better catch it before it finds its way into the power conduits."

"Agreed," said Aeryn. Just then, her comm came to life with the sound of Hope's fussing cries.

"She sounds hungry," said John.

Aeryn nodded. "All right, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go feed my daughter. The rest of you are going to find and kill the creature. Understood?"

"Yes'm," said John. Rygel and Chiana raised their pistols and nodded grimly.

* * *

"When am I going to learn," fumed Crichton, "that if something out here looks harmless, that probably means it can easily kill us all?"

"If you want an honest answer-" Rygel started.

"I don't," said Crichton. It wasn't his fault, after all - how was he supposed to know that the alien dessert was really the Revenge of the frelling Blob from Outer Space? He shook his head in annoyance and snapped, "Hand me the spanner, will ya?" Crichton was bent over a workbench in the maintenance bay, tinkering with a small cesium generator. Nearby, the CD player he had acquired during his brief stay on Earth was blasting rock music. It helped Crichton think when he worked.

"I take it you have a plan?" asked Rygel, forking over the tool.

"Yup. The Jello monster likes energy, so we'll give it energy. We can use this thing as bait."

"And then?"

John paused and looked up. "I'll... think of something."

Rygel's earbrows stood on end. "By the yotz, we're doomed."

* * *

John set the generator in the center of the hangar and switched on the power. The open conduit he had rigged up crackled to life and sparked with energy. "Okay... if I've wired this thing right, as soon as the Blob Jr. starts sucking on the power, it'll overload and blow up."

Chiana shouted over the comm, "Crichton, I saw it! It was feeding on a power cable, but it bounced away when I got close."

"How big has it gotten?" asked Rygel.

"It's gotta be at least as big as D'Argo now," she reported.

"That's pretty big," said John. "I hope this works."

Luck was on their side for once, because at that moment, the green ball of ooze came rolling into the hangar bay. It went straight for the generator and starting sapping up the energy.

After a few microts, Rygel said, "Crichton, it's not exploding... do something!"

"I can see that, Sparky. I must have wired it wrong..." Franticly, John looked around for something, _anything_ that might be used as a weapon. His eyes darted across the work bench and fell upon... "Oh, no." He picked up his CD player and opened the battery door. He had run out of double-A's some time ago, and had to modify a chakan oil cartridge to power the device. He really didn't want to blow up his CD player, but it was either that or Winona. "Aw, what the hell... Sparky, shoot the thing I throw at it!"

With that, John winged the CD player like a frisbee at the blob, and started firing pulse after pulse of energy at his beloved piece of Earth technology. Rygel joined in the salvo, and between the two of them, one of the pulse blasts managed to connect. John's CD player, the cesium generator, and the giant Jello mold went up in a blossom of fire and shrapnel.

* * *

"What a mess," said Aeryn. She was holding Hope in both hands and gently rocking the drowsy baby to sleep. She carefully picked her footsteps between piles of green slime and made her way to where John was cursing up a storm and trying to wipe the gunk off his face and clothes.

"I don't see what the problem is," said Rygel.

"What do you mean?!" shouted John. "It's going to take frelling forever to clean this up!"

"The debris, perhaps, but as for the slime..." Rygel grinned and withdrew a small object from within his robes. John and Aeryn peered closer at the object and shuddered in distaste when the realized what it was.

Rygel was holding a spoon.

"Okay, that's just wrong," said John. "I'm going to go take a shower... a long, long shower. Care to join me, babe?"

Aeryn nodded. "Just as soon as I put Hope down. Let's get out of here. Quickly," she added when Rygel landed his throne-sled and moved towards the nearest pile of quivering green goo.

John, Aeryn, and their four-monen-old daughter were out of the maintenance bay faster than you could say, "There's always room for Jello."

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Heroes Return**

"RATTLERS or willies?" asked Aeryn.

"Huh?" Crichton rolled over on the bed and regarded Aeryn, who returned his gaze with piercing scrutiny.

"I know you, John, and I know that look. Is it rattlers or willies?"

For crying out loud, thought John, it was the middle of the sleep cycle. Hope was finally sleeping, and Aeryn had to have been as exhausted as he was. It was pitch dark in their chamber. How did she know? "Neither, really," he said. "It's more like... spider sense."

"Spider... sense?" Aeryn was more amused than confused by John's sayings these days.

"Yeah, you know, like a premonition."

"Of what?"

Pilot's voice interrupted on cue. "Commander Crichton, Officer Sun, please come to command."

"Of _that_ ," said John. "Pilot, we'll be right up."

* * *

"A wormhole," said Aeryn, staring out the front viewport. "Is this the cause of your premonition?"

"Could be. Pilot, did you take readings?"

"Yes, Commander. In fact, that's why we called you up here. Normally, this wormhole would have gone unnoticed, but Moya detected a tachyon pulse when it opened."

John touched his lip with his thumb. "A tachyon pulse... like when a leviathan opens a slipstream to StarBurst?"

"Precisely, Crichton. Moya says she diverted from her course and came here because she found the particle signature to be... familiar."

Aeryn pointed at the viewport. "John, something's coming out of the wormhole!"

They both heard Pilot gasp in surprise. "It's... not possible!" he said.

Aeryn and Crichton could only echo Pilot's astonishment with stunned silence. When John saw the black and red ship that came drifting through the mouth of the wormhole, he swallowed before he was able to find his voice. "Talyn."

* * *

It didn't take long for the whole of Moya's crew to make their way to command. D'Argo, Chiana, Rygel, Stark, Jool... they rushed in one and two at a time. Noranti strode into command last of all, but then again, she had joined the crew shortly after the destruction of Scorpius's old Command Carrier, so it wasn't likely that she felt the same shock and urgency that the others did.

Chiana faced the clamshell viewer. "Pilot, what can you tell us? Is Talyn alive?"

"Moya's scans show that he is alive, but barely. Though it is faint, there is also one unmistakably sebacean life signature on board, so-"

"Crais," said D'Argo. "He survived."

"But," said Jool, almost whispering, "it's been nearly two cycles. How?"

"There's only one way to find out," said Aeryn. "I'm going to take a transport pod over to Talyn." She turned and walked out of the command chamber without another word.

"Hold it," said John, chasing after her. "I'm right behind you."

"I shall come too," said Stark, following closely behind. He was rubbing his hands together nervously and fidgeting even more than usual. "I wish to see how Talyn is - it has been a long time... a long, long time... a long, long, long-"

"Astro!" snapped Crichton. "If we let you come, will you help or freak?"

"I'll help, I'll help, I promise, I promise!"

Crichton rolled his eyes and ran to catch up with Aeryn. Uncounted trillions of beings in the universe, and he got stuck with people like the mad banik ex-slave and Captain "Back from the Dead but Probably Still an Asshole" Crais.

* * *

The transport pod set down in Talyn's mangled docking bay. "It appears that most of Talyn's corridors still have atmosphere," said Aeryn, checking a sensor, "but the docking bay is open to space."

John leaned over Aeryn's shoulder. "At least there's gravity. We should be all right with the EV suits."

"Agreed." Aeryn, John, and Stark quickly suited up and crossed the short stretch to the bay doors.

It took a while, but Aeryn was eventually able to override the jammed door controls and open them. A blast of wind greeted them as Talyn's corridors were briefly exposed to vacuum, but the trio darted into the hall and quickly sealed the hatch behind them. The hallway's air pressure leveled off again, and they were soon able to remove their suits and helmets.

Stark laid a hand on one of the bulkheads. "Talyn is gravely injured... but he does not appear to be in pain."

"He may be in shock," said Aeryn worriedly.

John knew that he wasn't any good at empathizing with leviathans, but if it came down to Talyn or Crais... _wait a minute_ , thought John, _Talyn never really liked me anyway_. At least he and Crais grudgingly tolerated one another. "I think we ought to go to command; find Our Boy Bialar. Then maybe we can learn what happened."

Aeryn nodded, but Stark looked as if he hadn't even heard John speak. Crichton chose to return the favor and ignore Stark; he and Aeryn left him and headed toward Talyn's command.

* * *

Bialar Crais could define his existence at that moment with the phrase "dull pain." He was once a Peacekeeper, though, and he could handle pain. He had destroyed the Command Carrier. He had ended the wormhole project. Perhaps he had even ended Scorpius. The thought made him want to cry out in victory and laugh aloud - only he couldn't. Why not? Oh; _that_ was why: he was only half conscious at the moment. «Talyn?» Crais thought feebly. He was relieved to hear the leviathan gunboat respond. Talyn had survived... he was injured... but for some reason, he was happy. Very happy.

He also sensed other beings moving through Talyn. Stark was here. He was wandering the corridors, caressing the walls and occasionally resting his ear to the floor, listening to the leviathan's living rhythms. Aeryn and Crichton were on board as well - in fact, they were right outside the door to command.

"Lu-u-cy," came Crichton's annoying and incomprehensibly accented voice, "we're ho-o-ome!"

Crais coughed and tried to stand up. Fire coursed through his muscles and his head swam with dizziness. He wouldn't be trying that again anytime soon. "C-Crichton, Aeryn," he rasped.

"Crais!" said Aeryn, keeling beside the prone captain. "You're alive."

"Did we succeed?" he asked, coughing again. "Was the carrier destroyed?"

"Yes it was," replied Aeryn slowly, unsure of what to think at Crais's questions.

"And Scorpius?"

"Oh, he lived," said John. "You know Scorpy: more lives than a cat. Or the three of us."

"Then we've failed," said Crais forlornly.

"Naw, you pulled it off. Scorpy's wormhole research went down with the ship." Crichton, his eyes hard and his expression cold, stared at Crais and chose his next words carefully. "When you disappeared in that StarBurst two cycles ago, we thought you were dead, man."

"Two cycles?!" All pain forgotten, Crais was on his feet in microts flat. Aeryn had to take hold of Crais's arm to steady him, but the captain shrugged her off and leaned on a nearby console. "How is that possible?"

"Wormholes." As usual, John thought with cynicism. "They're tunnels through spacetime. Scorpy's carrier was acting like a great, big stabilizing antenna for the wormhole nearby, so when Talyn StarBurst, you must have gotten sucked right in and sent to the future - I mean, to the present - I mean, to right now."

"What's the very last thing you remember?" asked Aeryn.

"I remember... commanding Talyn to initiate StarBurst. There was... great pain... then, a long, blue tunnel. Talyn's pain left him almost instantly, and was replaced by a sense of... euphoria, I suppose. I thought we must finally be dead, but then we ended up here."

Crichton's face remained impassive. "That sounds like a wormhole all right, but it still doesn't explain how you both survived the StarBurst _and_ the wormhole's rantath flux radiation. You do know that you're lucky not to be a smear on the dashboard, right?"

Crais nodded. Never mind whatever a dashboard was; he understood the sentiment.

"Come on," said Aeryn, taking hold of Crais again. "Let's get you to Moya and make sure you're not injured."

"I'm more concerned for Talyn," said Crais. "He will need extensive repairs, and time to heal."

Crais stumbled and nearly fell before they were even past the command doors, but John caught his other arm and held him up. "Looks like Talyn's not the only one."

* * *

The next several solar days saw Crais's expeditious recovery. He was eager to begin repairs on Talyn as soon as possible, but in the meantime, he had plenty of catching up to do. The sheer weight of everything that he had missed was almost too much to process. There was Aeryn's pregnancy; John finding Earth; their eventual marriage; and the birth of their daughter. There were the events on Qujaga that had nearly cost everyone their lives; and the half-cycle they spent in Tormented Space that culminated in the final banishment of John's neural clone and the unexpected and sudden recovery of Chiana's eyesight. The last couple of monens had brought Moya's crew back into the Uncharted Territories, where they were presently hiding out, a couple of parsecs from the border of the Sebacean Breakaway Colonies. This area of space had been quiet lately, and everyone hoped that they could effect repairs on Talyn in relative peace.

The crew of Moya, naturally enough, hardly knew quite what to think of Crais's and Talyn's sudden appearance. Aeryn, Stark, and Rygel had spent time with Crais on Talyn, and were pleased to have them back.

Chiana couldn't give a dannit's eema about Crais, but she had always felt close to Talyn and to have him back - well, all she knew was that right now, Moya must be feeling what Jack Crichton felt a cycle and a half ago when John showed up alive; or what D'Argo felt when he had finally been reunited with Jothee, before she and Jothee had... Chiana never got much farther than that with her introspections. She was just elated to have back alive and well the baby ship she had once midwifed.

Crichton, D'Argo, and Jool remained somewhat suspicious about the convenient reappearance, but none of them could bring themselves to think ill of Crais. He really would have given his life to keep wormholes from the Peacekeepers. They knew that now, and they respected the hero that Crais had finally been.

By the end of the weeken, Crais was back on his feet and fixing Talyn's power conduits. Moya's stores had much of the supplies they needed, and so the captain focused on fixing essential systems: he was intent on getting Talyn's life support, gravity, and shields back up to full operation. John and Aeryn were often aboard Talyn in turns, one of them spending time on Moya with Hope, while the other worked on the gunship's propulsion systems. Stark had volunteered for the responsibility of ferrying supplies between the leviathans (since Crais wouldn't let him near any of Talyn's vital systems).

* * *

John and Aeryn were resting together in the quarters that Aeryn had occupied during her stay on Talyn. John had brought Hope over from Moya so that he and Aeryn wouldn't have to keep trading places without seeing each other. Now, the baby was sleeping soundly on the bed between her parents. John realized that _he_ had never shared these quarters with Aeryn, and yet she had shared them with _him_. It was a mind-boggling thought. He gazed at his beautiful baby daughter, sleeping so peacefully next to her napping mother. Hope might have been conceived right here on this bed, thought John. The only other possible time and place was the Ancients' False Earth. John quickly dismissed the thought - it wasn't important anyway. What mattered, he knew, was that his family was here with him, right now. He was, all things considered, pretty lucky to be with them.

* * *

Crais put the finishing touches on the defense screens' neural connections. Rygel, conscripted as Crais's reluctant assistant, took the spanner from Crais and then slammed the toolbox shut. "Finally finished," the hynerian grumbled.

"These connections should hold in an emergency, but I would prefer to make more extensive repairs when we find a planet with the proper equipment," said Crais.

"How are Talyn's engines?" asked Rygel. "Do we have enough power to make it to the Royal Planet?" The diminutive dominar fondly remembered the excellent table set by Empress Novia's chefs...

"Unfortunately not," replied Crais. "Crichton and Aeryn have done what they can to repair Talyn's hetch drive, but his biomechanoid components must still heal. Talyn will not be capable of StarBurst or speed above hetch 2.5 for at least another weeken."

Rygel was about to say something derisive, when Talyn gave a sudden lurch that sent Crais into the wall and Rygel clear off of his throne-sled. " _What the frell is going on?_ " Rygel shouted.

Crais picked himself up and concentrated on Talyn's navigational sensors. "Talyn is accelerating away from Moya!"

"Well, stop him!"

"Talyn!" Crais commanded. "I order you to stop! Return to Moya, now!" The leviathan wasn't listening, though. He surged forward at near lightspeed, heading straight for the blue vortex that had reopened nearby...

* * *

"Pilot, do something!" screamed Chiana.

"There is nothing we can do!" said Pilot. "Talyn is entering the wormhole of his own volition, and Moya is too frightened to follow him!"

Chiana made an angry noise and was about to comm D'Argo, but Pilot beat her to it. "Captain Ka D'Argo!" he shouted, fear evident in his voice. "Come to command now! Talyn is diving into the wormhole, and Moya has just detected _an entire Peacekeeper flotilla_ at the extreme range of her sensors!"

D'Argo came barreling into the command chamber at full sprint. "Where is Talyn now?" he demanded.

"It's too late," whispered Chiana. "He's gone."

That settled it for D'Argo. "Pilot, StarBurst immediately. We'll find them after we get away from the Peacekeepers."

"I cannot, Ka D'Argo," said Pilot. "Moya refuses to leave the area without Talyn." D'Argo hissed in anger, but froze when Pilot interrupted. "We are receiving a transmission from the flotilla's Command Carrier."

"Ignore it," said D'Argo.

"But," said Pilot in confusion, "they're signaling... surrender."

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Rabbit Hole Too Small**

"SHH," whispered Aeryn, "Mama's here. Don't cry, dearest." Holding Hope close to her bosom, Aeryn whispered soothing things to her daughter. The child had started crying the instant Talyn had dived into the wormhole. Now she was finally calming down, responding to the sound of her mother's gentle voice.

John came back to their quarters and, not wishing to break up a Kodak moment, quietly leaned on the doorway and waited for Aeryn to notice him. It was amazing, he thought, how good she was with Hope. Motherhood really was instinctive after all, at least for Aeryn.

She glanced at the doorway and saw John smiling at her. "What happened?" she whispered.

John crossed the room and put his arms around Aeryn, their daughter held softly between them. "Talyn went bonkers and jumped back into the wormhole. I found Rygel in command, trying to get a fix on where we ended up, but it looks like the middle of nowhere."

"And Crais?"

"Rygel said that he's still on tier 1, and that he's gone, and I quote, 'magra-fharbot.'" _At least everyone else is still safe aboard Moya_ , thought John, though given their present situation, that was small consolation.

"All right," said Aeryn, "why don't you go find Crais while I help Rygel figure out where we are?"

"Sure thing," John said. After planting quick kisses on Aeryn's lips and Hope's head, he turned to go find Talyn's captain.

* * *

"Crais? Yo, man, where'dja go?" Crichton wandered down the corridor, pausing when he heard what sounded like laughter. " _¿El Capitan?_ Is that you?" John turned a corner and came upon Bialar Crais, laying to the ground and giggling to himself.

Instantly, John was on the ground and kneeling over Crais. The captain's eyes were glazed over and he stared right through John. Crichton slapped him on the cheek a couple of times to get his attention and said, "Hello! Captain Crais, are you still with us, buddy?"

Holding back his laughter, Crais managed to chortle out, "Crichton... hehehe... I can't... stop... bwahahah!"

"This is definitely not normal." In fact, John couldn't ever remember Crais laughing about anything.

"No, it isn't!" choked Crais between guffaws. "I could... hahaha... I could be dying, and I wouldn't even care!"

"Crais, listen to me!" said Crichton, taking a hold of the captain's coat and pulling him up to his feet. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Oh, nothing," giggled Crais. "Just, Talyn diving into the wormhole and trying to get us all killed or lost!"

"This happened when Talyn-" then it hit Crichton like a bolt of lightning. "Wormholes. Leviathans and wormholes." Leviathans were used to flying through normal space and StarBursting through hyperspace, but wormholes were subspace corridors filled with all sorts of exotic radiation - a totally alien environment to the living ships. "They make Moya phobic, but Talyn gets happy."

Crais threw his arm around Crichton's shoulder, like they were old drinking pals sharing a joke. "Maybe it's because Talyn's part Peacekeeper!"

"Yeah, and we all know how much Peacekeepers love wormholes," deadpanned John. "Makes 'em positively giddy." If that was the case, Crais's condition was due to the link he shared with Talyn. "Crais, switch off the transponder."

"Not necessary," said Crias, finally suppressing his mirth. "The effect... seems to be wearing off now that Talyn has left the wormhole."

"Then let's go see what Aeryn and Sparky could find out." All they needed now, John thought ruefully, was a fix on where they were, a way to get back to where they came from, and a "just say no to wormholes" program for adolescent leviathans.

* * *

When John and Crais entered command, Rygel made a point of floating up to the ceiling on the far side of the chamber. "Is he dangerous?" asked the hynerian.

"No," said John, "but it would seem that wormholes get Talyn loopy, and Crais got a little contact buzz."

"Little?" snorted Rygel. "He was rolling in the hallways! You call that 'little?'"

Crais cleared his throat. "The symptoms have passed. Both Talyn and I are ourselves again. I suggest we concentrate on more important matters."

Aeryn touched a console and brought up a display of Talyn and the surrounding area. "There are no signs of civilization for metras around. Subspace comms traffic is dead; nothing but static."

Crichton gazed at the display. "That wormhole was unstable - it won't be opening up again anytime soon. We're going to need to find a star system with planets and solar flares if we want to get back."

Crais nodded. "I'll have Talyn start scanning for a suitable system. In the meantime, we ought to search for any sign of an inhabited planet."

Rygel was looking out through the front viewport. "I wonder what part of the galaxy we're in now," he mused.

Crichton had a feeling that they were still in the Milky Way, present time, but beyond that, he was as clueless as Rygel. "Wherever we are, it's nowhere near the galactic core anymore. See that white band stretching across the starscape?" Rygel nodded, and Crichton went on. "That's the galactic plane. We're probably closer to the outer rim now, maybe in one of the spiral arms."

Rygel's mouth fell open. "Crichton, isn't your planet in a spiral arm?"

"Well, yeah, the Orion Arm. It's edge of the galaxy opposite the core from known space and the Uncharted Territories. But we don't have any way of knowing..." Crichton stopped in mid-sentence. "Aeryn, did you look for any good, old-fashioned electromagnetic communications?"

"What, you mean like radio signals? No, of course not. They're worthless for communicating over any sort of distance in space."

"Just look, okay?"

After a few microts spent adjusting Talyn's comms systems, Aeryn looked up at John again. "I've got a signal, but it's faint." She put it through, and the sound of music filled the command chamber.

A voice on the communiqué then cut in with, _"And that was the Beatles with 'Can't Buy Me Love,' still number one on the charts..."_

"That was English," said Aeryn. "We're near Earth."

Crichton nodded. He had a chance to see Earth again; to see his father and his sisters; to let them know that he was still okay; to tell them that he was a husband and a father...

"John?" Aeryn was always concerned when her husband zoned out.

"I heard you," he said. "But that song, it hasn't been at the top of the charts since the early sixties. If this transmission is live - assuming we didn't time-travel through the wormhole - then we're about forty light-years... twelve parsecs from Earth. At hetch 2.5, it would only take us... a cycle and a half to get there."

"Not so," said Crais. "Talyn says that he will be able to StarBurst within four solar days, and his propulsion systems will be fully healed by the end of weeken."

"In that case," said John, "point Talyn in the direction of that signal and let's get a move-on."

* * *

"You're the captain!" said Chiana with a tilt of her head. "S-s-so tell us what the frell to do!"

D'Argo sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. What to do, indeed - that was the six-million krindar question. "Pilot, how long until the Command Carrier is in firing range?"

"Unknown, Ka D'Argo. The flotilla is not moving from its current position."

"What?"

"They came to a halt at the edge of Moya's sensor range, just before signaling surrender."

Chiana shook her head in disbelief. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know!" D'Argo snapped angrily.

Chiana was taken aback. "Well if you can't make a decision, I will. Pilot, open a channel and accept their surrender!"

"You can't do that!" said D'Argo. "This is such an obvious trap, that you would have to be... you would have to be Crichton to walk into it!"

"M-maybe that's it!" said Chiana. "Maybe they know who we are, and th-they're scared. Yeah, that's right, scared that if they piss us off, Crichton'll blow 'em all up, or use a wormhole on them or something!"

"That... is... _ridiculous_ ," said D'Argo. "And besides, Crichton isn't here. He used a wormhole all right, and it frelled us all. Pilot, I demand that Moya StarBursts _immediately_!"

"She still refuses to leave, Captain." Pilot blinked in surprise and added, "We are now receiving a hailing transmission requesting an audience with the leader of Moya's crew."

"Very well, Pilot," said D'Argo, his voice thick with ire. "I have just _got_ to hear what they plan on saying this time. Put it through."

The clamshell viewer flickered and switched to the bridge of the Command Carrier. Filling the view was an older sebacean male with a gaunt face and a tall, wiry build. His short-cropped hair was gray, but the small goatee on his chin was jet-black. His eyes were a piercing gray that D'Argo found distinctly unsettling. "This is the commander of the Special Directorate carrier P.K.S. _Gymettion_. Am I addressing the captain of Moya?"

"You are," said D'Argo guardedly.

"A luxan?" said the sebacean, stroking his goatee. "Forgive me, but I had heard that John Crichton was of an unknown alien species."

D'Argo almost laughed aloud. Almost. This man claimed to be Peacekeeper Intelligence? If John were here, he would've called that a contradiction in terms. "I am Ka D'Argo," he said, "and _I_ am Moya's captain, not John Crichton."

Even if the faux pas reflected badly on the Peacekeepers' intelligence, the commander didn't allow his face to show a reaction. His lips curled into a half smile and he said wryly, "Are you to tell me that the legendary alien, the fabled harbinger of Peacekeeper and scarran doom, takes orders from a luxan ex-prisoner?"

Whoever this man was, he knew how to push the right buttons. D'Argo hoped that his growing rage didn't show on his face. "I wouldn't say that Crichton takes orders from anybody, if you take my meaning. But you _did_ ask to speak to the leader of Moya's crew, and here I am. So speak."

"Very well. Where is John Crichton? I much desired to converse with him."

"Wh-wh-what do you want with Crichton?" shouted Chiana. "When will you Peacekeeper frellniks leave him alone? Besides-"

"Chiana!" hissed D'Argo. He had been expecting the Peacekeeper's request. "I'm sorry to tell you that Crichton isn't aboard Moya right now."

The commander raised an eyebrow at D'Argo. "Indeed? Was he on the other leviathan, then? The one that vanished from our scans?"

D'Argo grinned smugly. "Yes, and since Talyn has vanished down a wormhole, _you_ cannot get to him!"

At that, both of the sebacean's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry... did you say 'Talyn?'"

D'Argo nodded. _That's right_ , he thought, _Talyn and Crais are supposed to be dead_. Small wonder the Peacekeeper was surprised.

"A most... unusual name," said the commander softly. "For a leviathan..."

Whatever D'Argo had said, he knew that it had set this Peacekeeper on his heels. Still, he just couldn't shake the feeling that the flotilla's commander was familiar somehow. Whatever it was, he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

On the deck of the carrier, an aide came to the bridge and saluted. "Report, Ensign," said the commander.

"Admiral Lyczak, sir, we have received a reply from Empress Novia. She has agreed to open talks, and will allow us to enter Royal Colony Space."

D'Argo's mouth fell open. _Lyczak... no, it couldn't be..._

The Admiral turned back to the screen and addressed D'Argo. "Should John Crichton return to Moya, please relay this message: the commander of the Rebellion against the Peacekeepers wishes to forge an alliance, and will await his arrival on the Royal Planet. _Gymettion_ out." The clamshell went blank.

Almost as blank as the stare decorating D'Argo's face.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Homecoming**

Despite the fact that Tayln was forced to limp through space at relative crawl of twenty-one times the speed of light for four whole days, John Crichton was far from bored. Thanks to the fact that they were a good forty light-years from Earth, all of the radio signals they were receiving had originated there in 1964, which meant that John could amuse himself by listening to oldies and catching the occasional snowy episode of _Bewitched_ or _The Twilight Zone_. John listened to the Beatles whenever he got the chance, and had ended up having to explain their fame to Aeryn, a conversation that had gone something like this:

_"You mean these 'Beetles' were very famous on Earth?"_

"More than famous, Sunshine; they were bigger than Jesus."

"Right. Jesus. And what sort of music did

_he_ _sing?"_

Crichton did some quick calculations in his head, and realized with a smile that if they came to a distance of precisely thirty-two light years away from Earth, any signals they received would be from 1973 - he might be able to catch his dad's moon-landing again.

It wasn't meant to be, though. As soon as Talyn was able, he StarBurst in the direction of John's planet. By the time the leviathan was reverting to realspace, everyone on board had already assembled in command.

"According to Talyn's sensors, we are one light-cycle away from the yellow star ahead," announced Crais. "I am reading four gas-giants, and several smaller orbiting bodies,"

"That's my home system all right," said Crichton, "but if we're still in the present, any signals we're reading now should have left Earth in early 2004."

"After we left the first time, but before we closed the wormhole," said Aeryn.

"Bingo. Now," said Crichton, turning on the comm, "let's see what time we're in." He tuned in a radio station and listened to a stream of incomprehensible babble which was so full of metaphors and sayings that it made John sound sensible in comparison.

Crais stared at Crichton questioningly. "Well?" he asked. "Does this mean anything to you?"

"Yup," said Crichton. "I've just learned something very important."

Rygel's ears twitched. "What is it?"

"The New England Patriots won the '04 Super-Bowl last January. And Janet Jackson... damn..."

* * *

Talyn flew past Jupiter and headed for the solar system's inner planets. "Your system is actually quite beautiful, Crichton," said Crais. "Talyn wishes to convey that he finds the sixth planet particularly pleasing."

"Saturn," said John. "You can tell Talyn that a lot of humans would agree with him - after Earth, it's the prettiest planet we've got."

Talyn blasted past the asteroid belt and Mars. In practically no time at all (though it felt like an eternity to John), the gunship was boldly settling into high Earth orbit. "Just hold him here," said John to Crais. "We don't want to do anything until we can get ourselves a world-famous 'human reaction.' Let's see what they do first."

It didn't take very long. About an arn after Talyn's arrival in orbit, an audio signal came over the comms. "This is Colonel Jack Crichton of Earth's Extraterrestrial Contact Commission. Please identify yourself and state your purpose for coming to Earth."

John could tell that Crais was surprised to be receiving a message from his father, especially since Crais had seen his likeness before in the form of "Jack" the Ancient. Truthfully, John wasn't all that surprised, since his dad had been made Project Leader of IASA's Extraterrestrial Studies Division, and he was among the few humans to have received translator microbes. "It's my dad," said John. "Go ahead and answer him, but don't let him know that I'm here. The same goes for Aeryn, Hope, and Rygel. I want it to be a surprise."

"Are you sure that's wise, Crichton?" asked Crais. Surely the humans must have been aware by now that Talyn was heavily armed, and they had no way of knowing that his main cannon had been disabled on the Command Carrier.

"Don't worry," he said. "There's nothing they could do to us from down there anyway."

"Very well," said Crais, mentally ordering Talyn to activate the comms. "This is Captain Bialar Crais of the leviathan Talyn. My ship is in need of repairs and supplies, and I seek a place to land."

"That can be arranged," said Colonel Crichton, "if you don't mind answering a few questions. We don't get many visitors around here, you see."

"I understand," said Crais, smiling to himself. Perhaps the surprise would be worth it after all. "Ask your questions."

"Well, first of all, your leviathan has some pretty big guns. How can we know that you come in peace?"

"My ship's weapons systems were disabled a long time ago," said Crais. A long time ago for the rest of the universe, at any rate - to him, it still felt like it had been a handful of solar days. "I can assure you that we are no threat to your world."

"Whether or not we can believe that depends on how you answer my other question," said Jack. "Your language sounds Sebacean. Are you a Peacekeeper?"

"I am a sebacean," admitted Crais, "but I am not a Peacekeeper. I hold allegiance only to myself, my ship... and my comrades."

"And just out of curiosity, how many 'comrades' are we talking about here?"

Crais glanced around the command chamber. Aeryn and Crichton, Rygel... «Don't forget Hope,» said Talyn. Of course, thought Crais, Talyn would never let him forget the offspring of Aeryn Sun. "My ship bears four passengers, apart from myself."

"Very well," said Jack. "Please hold your present orbit. We'll contact you in one hour with an answer to your request."

Crais knew what an hour was, but he had to keep up appearances. "And how long is that, precisely?"

"I'm sorry," said Jack. "It's one twenty-fourth of a local day. Just a bit longer than an... arn, I think?"

"In one arn, then," said Crais. "Talyn out." At a thought from Crais, the leviathan cut the transmission.

* * *

One hour later, the comms came back to life. "Canaveral Control to leviathan Talyn, please respond."

"Canaveral, this is Talyn," said Crais. "Do we have permission to land?"

Jack chuckled softly at the sound of an alien captain addressing 'Canaveral.' He cleared his throat and said, "You've been cleared to land at the Kennedy Space Center. Once you enter the atmosphere, aircraft will intercept and escort you to the landing site. Be advised that security will be fairly heavy on the ground; our people aren't used to alien contact, so soldiers will be present as much for your protection as for ours."

"Understood, Colonel." Crais cut the signal and ordered Talyn into the atmosphere.

* * *

The young leviathan hardly knew what to make of all the transmissions he was able to listen in on. It seemed as if the whole planet were talking about him. Some of the things they were saying made him nervous, but the ship realized that it was because these people were afraid of him. «Ignore them, as Crichton advised,» said Crais. «The humans are curious, because you are only the second alien starship they have ever seen, and you look very different from Moya.» That seemed to calm Talyn down, which in turn made Crais feel better. He didn't want his ship to get nervous and fire off one of his exterior pulse batteries.

Waving his palm in front of the hatch's sensor, Crais lowered the ramp, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the sunlight. Colonel Crichton had not lied; there were a great many soldiers waiting for them. Most seemed to be occupied with holding a wide perimeter on the edge of the landing site, or keeping at bay a small but anxious crowd of reporters, photographers, and cameramen.

A welcoming committee had turned out to greet Captain Crais, who noted Jack Crichton at the head of the delegation. Crais held out his hand and said, "Colonel Jack Crichton, I presume?"

Jack took Bialar's hand and said, "Welcome to Earth, Captain. But how did you know who I was?"

"That's simple. You bear an unmistakable resemblance to your son."

On that cue, John and Aeryn (with Hope in her arms) strolled down the ramp, while Rygel hovered close behind. "Hey, Dad!" said John cheerfully.

"John!" shouted Jack over gasps from the delegation and shouts of surprise coming from the crowd of reporters. He rushed forward to embrace his son. _Things must be better for him. He hasn't pulled a gun on me yet._ "I thought I'd never see you again, son."

"I told you I'd find my way back. And look who's here," said John, drawing Aeryn and Hope over.

"Aeryn, it's good to see you again. And who do we have here?"

Aeryn beamed with pride. "Jack, I'd like you to meet Hope Leslie, your granddaughter."

"My- then, you two...?"

"Yeah," John grinned, "we tied the knot a little over a year ago."

"She's so beautiful," said Jack, gazing into Hope's eyes. He swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. "You don't know how happy I am to see the both of you together like this. And with a family!"

"We already had a family," said Aeryn, "but Hope is its next generation."

Jack nodded and turned to Rygel. With a respectful bow of his head, he said, "Dominar Rygel, it's a pleasure to once again receive you on Earth."

"Thank you, Jack," Rygel replied, "and I must say, it's good to see a familiar face. I was wondering, though, whether we would be given the same accommodations we had on our last visit?"

"Actually, Rygel, not long after you left, the government purchased the mansion and reserved it for any future offworld guests. The media even took to calling it 'Roswell Manor.'"

John saw the puzzled look on Rygel's face and said, "I'll explain it later, Guido."

Jack turned back to Crais and said, "Captain, we'll have a team of engineers standing by to assist you with any repairs you need to make. In the meantime, we'd better go say 'hi' to the press before the whole planet scares itself stupid."

* * *

A quiet evening at the Crichton home was a rare commodity. John and his father hadn't had much time to talk in the past three days, but Jack sincerely wanted to rectify that before it was too late. He handed John a beer and sat down on the couch next to him. "Where is everybody?" asked Jack.

John put his feet up on the table and took a long swallow of beer. "Oh, Crais is still working on Talyn; Rygel's back at the mansion eating half of Hershey, Pennsylvania; and Livvy took Aeryn and Hope to the mall. Shopping for baby clothes."

"Well, I'm sure they'll enjoy that," said Jack. "At least Livvy will." _Be smart. Don't push him. Let John open up to you._

"Yeah." John gave a hollow chuckle. "Hey Dad, tell me something. They didn't make some God-awful TV mini-series about me after I left, did they?"

"No," laughed Jack. "The fact is, things quieted down pretty fast around here. It's always too quiet without troublemakers like you and D-" Jack sobered instantly. "Without you and DK around," he finished in a quieter voice.

John stared into his beer bottle. "I miss him too, Dad." After a long silence, John finally looked up at his father. "I got the bitch that had him killed, you know."

Jack's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about, son? D'Argo-"

"D'Argo shot the critter, but that thing had a boss. Rover followed Johnny home for a reason, and that reason was a Peacekeeper officer named Commandant Grayza." John took a deep breath and closed his eyes before continuing. "She hijacked her own boat and tried to start a war, but the Peacekeepers arrested her for it. She escaped their custody and went to a planet called Arnessk, where she captured a friend of mine, Jool, and a bunch of peaceful priests. She held them hostage and tried to trade their lives for mine. Wanted to get back into the PKs' good graces, I guess."

John set the beer bottled down on the coffee table. As he did, Jack noticed that his son's hand was shaking slightly. "What happened then, son?"

"I hid my pulse pistol, went down to the planet, and pretended to surrender. I was only planning on escaping at first, but I had to ask about the skreeth. Grayza had been my prime suspect for a while now, so I outright asked her whodunit. And she bragged about it, Dad. She gloated to my face about having DK and Laura questioned, tortured, and killed." John's expression was as hard as stone, but his voice was rasping with emotion. "And so I shot her."

That was all that John was willing to tell his father, but to be perfectly honest, he hadn't just shot Grayza. The fact was, he had taken great pleasure in putting pulse blast after pulse blast right between Mele-on's melons, with Harvey cheering him on from subconscious sidelines the whole time. That event had been a final straw for John. He saw cold-blooded revenge as crossing a line, and that had been the spark that had set John on a quest for neurologists, mentalists, telepaths - anyone who could help rid him of the neural clone. He had succeeded, but it had very nearly cost John his sanity. _"My sanity? That's small price to pay,"_ John had said at the time. _"It's not like I have much of that left anyway!"_

John had judged himself, and harshly, Jack decided. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to judge. Were he in John's place, he would have avenged DK too. The problem was, he still didn't understand. He couldn't grasp what John had gone through, but of one thing he was damn sure: he needed to understand. "Are you planning on leaving again?"

"You know I have to," said John. "I have to keep fighting. It's the only way I know I can protect Earth."

"When are you going?"

"That wormhole back to the Uncharteds won't open up again for more than a week." John didn't quite know how he knew that. It was more than a feeling. It was more like his subconscious was crunching the numbers for him. "We've still got some time."

Never enough time, thought Jack. "John, would you consider letting me come with you?"

"What?"

"I want to see the world you've been living in these past six years. I want to go back into space with my son and his family."

"It's not a vacation, Dad. You get shot at, _a lot_ , when you're in my line of work." What was his line of work, anyway? John had never asked himself that question before. Survivalist? Savior of the universe? Interplanetary fashion-consultant for leather aficionados? It was simpler than any of that. Husband. Father. Astronaut. And, oh yeah, Dorothy Gale from Kansas - after all, Dorothy eventually went back and stayed in Oz.

"So are you telling me that Moya's safe enough for your baby daughter, but too dangerous for your old man?" Jack had been a combat pilot, after all. His flight suit, the seat of his pants, and everything.

"It's not safe, Dad, but Earth wouldn't be much safer. Not for the only half-human in the universe. Besides, Moya is home for my family."

"A family I may never get to know," said Jack. "I don't have all the time in the world."

"And what about Livvy? Susan and Bobby?"

"Your sisters are big girls, John. They understand what it's like for me to be stuck here on Earth, now that we know we're not alone in this universe. I was dreaming about space before you were even born, John. I want to experience the wonders you've seen."

"There are nightmares too, Dad."

Jack nodded. "I know."

* * *

**Chapter 6: It's a Twister!**

"Pilot?"

"Yes, Stark?"

"Has the wormhole opened yet?"

"No, Stark."

"Pilot?"

_"Yes... Stark?"_

"Has the wormhole opened yet?"

_"No, Stark!"_

"I see. Pilot?"

_**"What?!"** _

"Has the worm-"

_**"No!"** _

"Very well. Thank you, Pilot." Stark turned and sadly left the den, passing Joolushko on his way out.

The interion climbed over the consoles and laid a gentle hand on Pilot's face. "Don't be too hard on Stark, Pilot. He's just worried about the others. He thinks that if he had been on Talyn, he might have been able to stop... what happened."

"I know," growled Pilot, "but that does not give him the excuse to pester us about the wormhole every quarter-arn. Even Moya is beginning to grow agitated from waiting."

"Then why don't we go somewhere?" asked Jool. "A nearby commerce planet, even - anything to get away from this monotony! D'Argo and Chiana do nothing all day but frell each other's brains out, the old woman is stinking up the center chamber with hezmana knows what, and Stark has nothing to do but bother you and Moya!"

"I'm sorry, Joolushko, but Moya is resolute in her decision. She will not leave until the wormhole reopens, not so soon after finding Talyn alive again. If Talyn does not emerge at that time, then she will consider moving on to resupply and meeting up with him later."

* * *

Olivia Crichton was positively bubbling. Her brother and Aeryn had finally gotten their act together. They had produced this wonderful little miracle who rode placidly in the newly acquired baby-seat that sat next to Aeryn in the government car. Livvy couldn't help but coo and talk nonsense to her little niece. Hope's curious eyes and tiny smile would light up, and she would laugh like only a baby could.

Aeryn had once thought that baby talk was a human trait, but as it turned out, D'Argo and Chiana had been quite adept at the art, as had Jool and Stark. Rygel, it seemed, would dote on the little creature whenever he thought that nobody else was there to see or hear him, but the fact was, the hynerian dominar wasn't fooling anybody. He had an affection for Hope that likely rivaled that of her parents. After seeing how Jack, Olivia, and the rest had reacted to Hope, Aeryn knew that this child would have a loving family that spanned the whole of the galaxy...

"I still just can't believe you two are married!" said Livvy breathlessly. (It had been a long day. Shopping with Secret Service agents and National Guardsmen was not something either woman relished. Then there was the fact that store clerks would continually ask for Aeryn's autograph...) Olivia pointed to the ring on Aeryn's finger and said, "I knew John was going to need that sooner or later."

Aeryn almost laughed out loud. "Did we make it that obvious to the whole planet? I know there were rumors, but-"

"Rumors well-founded, apparently," smirked Livvy, "if _she's_ any indication."

Aeryn looked down at Hope, who was rapidly falling asleep. The little one must have been just as tired as she was, Aeryn thought. "It's funny," said Aeryn softly, "how being a mother changes your whole world. Between crying, feeding, changing, and everything that becomes your life, you only have to look at her sleeping face to remember what it's all worth."

"You know, she hasn't cried much since I've seen her," said Livvy. "Some babies are quiet like that."

"You weren't there on Talyn," said Aeryn. "But since we've come to Earth, Hope has been as sweet as she usually is on Moya. She must like being on this planet."

"She really is her father's child," said Livvy.

"Oh, there's no question of _that_."

* * *

One week later...

_"Is this mike on, Dave? Oh, we're go in five? Okay. *Ahem.* This is NBC News Channel 6, reporting live from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, where the leviathan Talyn is moments away from lifting off and returning to deep space, this time bearing an additional passenger. Colonel John Crichton Sr., former director of Extraterrestrial Studies for IASA, has chosen to accompany his son to the far side of the galaxy. When we finally caught up to Col. Crichton in the press room, he stated that his primary reason for this mission was a desire to be with his family: his son, Commander John Crichton Jr., daughter-in-law Aeryn Sun Crichton, and granddaughter Hope Crichton. The colonel has also accepted a directive from the United Nations to act in an ambassadorial capacity, hoping to establish diplomatic ties with friendly planets and to assess any potential threats posed by hostile species..._

"Wait, wait, we can see Colonel Crichton coming out to the launchpad now. Yes, and there we have the Commanders Crichton and their daughter... for those of you just tuning in, Aeryn Sun Crichton was awarded the honorary rank of IASA commander by the President of the United Sates and the Secretary-General of the UN, in order to formally recognize her citizenship of the United Sates and Earth.

"Ah, and there we can see Dominar Rygel XVI and Captain Bialar Crais, rounding out this historic expedition. Dominar Rygel has spent much of the past week meeting with heads of state world-wide, and has promised mutual trade and defense treaties with Earth in the event that he is able to reclaim his throne. Captain Crais can now be seen shaking hands with Dr. Wagner, who headed the team of IASA, MIT, and USAF engineers that assisted in repairing and rearming the gunship Talyn."

The reporter continued to describe the scene as John, Aeryn, and Jack had their tearful goodbyes with Olivia, and with Susan and her family. People around the world watched as the small party boarded Talyn, which gracefully lifted off the ground and sailed into the blue. Orbiting satellites with mounted cameras tracked the gunship as it left Earth's gravity well, discharged the energy gathered for StarBurst, and vanished into hyperspace.

A few microseconds later, a final message from John Crichton reached radio receivers on Earth: _"This is John Crichton. I don't say goodbye anymore - it's too final - so I'll just leave you with a 'klaatu barada nikto' and maybe a 'live long and prosper.' But rest assured,"_ he added, switching to an Arnold impression, _"I'll be back!"_

* * *

Talyn came out of StarBurst only a few arns away from the mouth of the wormhole, and he got there with time to spare. It was a full solar day later when John Crichton stood on command for what the crew of Moya had come to call his "wormhole ritual." John stared intensely at empty space. "Tres... dos... uno... wormhole!" On cue, spacetime shifted and the gaping fold in subspace came into full and glorious view. John smiled; his timing was much better these days.

Over Talyn's comms, John announced, "We're about to take the twister back to Oz, so buckle up and hang on to something solid."

John turned to the command chamber's other occupant. "Crais, can Talyn give me manual control for a microt?"

"What for?"

"I have to navigate the wormhole," said Crichton. "Otherwise, we end up in some alternate quantum reality, or a thousand cycles in the past, or blown clear out of the galaxy. Capice?"

"Very well," said Crais. A compartment on the navigation console opened, and a flight stick appeared. "Talyn will follow your direction."

"Thanks," said John. "Oh, and one more thing. Before we take the plunge, you'd better switch off your transponder. Unless, of course, you'd rather come out of the wormhole as Captain 'Cuckoo for Coco-Puffs.'"

Crais sighed. "Your suggestions make sense, Crichton, even if your words do not. Give me a few microts to explain to Talyn-"

Crais didn't have the time, though. Talyn was already accelerating towards the wormhole on his own. Crais barely had enough time to switch off his neural transponder and hope that Crichton could guide Talyn safely through the spatial phenomenon.

* * *

"Captain," announced Pilot, "the wormhole has reappeared! Stability is peaking at 27%... and dropping again, rapidly."

D'Argo bypassed command and marched straight to the docking bay. "Anything yet?"

"No. The wormhole is now at 23% stability."

D'Argo stood by the bay doors and sucked in his breath. _Come on, John..._

"19% stability... 14%... 11%..."

The luxan warrior closed his eyes. _I know you'll make it. You, Aeryn, your offspring, and even Rygel will appear out of that thing any microt now._

"7%... 2%..." Pilot finished reading off numbers and his voice softened. "The wormhole has... collapsed."

D'Argo didn't dare to breathe. He had a duty to Moya and to his friends now. They had to find a planet and resupply. He could trust John to find his way back to them on his own.

Pilot's voice perked up. "Wait! The photonic burst has subsided... it's Talyn! Talyn has returned! He's moving alongside Moya and dispatching a transport pod."

Relief flooded D'Argo's spirits. "Thank you, Pilot," he said. "Tell them I'll be waiting in hangar bay 2."

* * *

"Yo, D, my main man, what's up!" John came forward and slapped the luxan a high five.

Not be outdone, D'Argo lifted John off of his feet in one of his famous luxan hyper-bearhugs. "It is _very_ good to have you back, my friends," said D'Argo. "It has been a _long_ two weekens."

Aeryn and Rygel disembarked from the pod, followed shortly by Jack Crichton, holding his granddaughter. "It's good to see you again, D'Argo."

D'Argo was almost speechless. "Colonel Crichton... John, does every frelling wormhole lead to _your_ planet?"

"Naw, man, the wormhole didn't lead _straight_ to Earth. But it was close enough that we could drop in and get Talyn patched up - and say 'hi' to the family."

"That's wonderful, I'm sure," said D'Argo, "but what is your father doing here?"

"He's going to join the crew for a while, Rasta-man. That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, of course not," said D'Argo. "Besides, there's no other choice. The wormhole collapsed just as you came through."

"It was unstable and deteriorating," said John. "It won't open up again for hundreds of cycles. That's a good thing, though. It means that Earth is still cut off."

"And when your father wants to go home?"

"Then I'll build a phase stabilizer and tear the universe a new one, but until then, let's introduce my dad to Jool and Stark, and get everything settled."

* * *

Chiana finally caught up with Aeryn while the sebacean was fixing a ruptured water pipe on one of the lower tiers. "Hey," said Chi. "Did D'Argo tell you about that Special Directorate battle group that ran into us?"

"No," grunted Aeryn as she twisted a wrench and forced a valve closed. "Pilot did. He said something about an Admiral that wanted to talk with John."

"Yeah, b-b-but did he say anything else?"

Aeryn set the tool down and wiped off her hands. "No. Chiana, did something happen?"

"W-well, it's just that when he was talkin' to us, one of the bridge officers called him 'Admiral Lyczak,' and he reacted really funny when D'Argo mentioned Talyn."

Aeryn glowered at Chiana. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd know something. I mean, wasn't that the name of your f-"

" _No!_ " shouted Aeryn. "My father is _dead_! My mother killed him, and he died before I ever knew him!"

"Okay, maybe it's not him," said Chi carefully, "but what about a-a-a relative? A brother or something, maybe?"

Aeryn swallowed and wiped her eyes with one hand. _Crying? What would I by crying for?_ Even after all this time, Aeryn wasn't prone to emotional outbursts. "I just... I just don't want to hope it's him and be wrong again. It's like Crichton... John was fooled twice, by the Ancients and the scarrans. I've already been through it once, on Valldon. _I will not let that happen to me again_."

* * *

**Chapter 7: Alliances**

"Hoo-wee, that was a big'n!" shouted John. He fell to a heap in the center chamber and wiped some of the sticky blue critter-blood off of his face. John was exhausted, but sure was glad that _that_ little episode was over.

Jack Crichton, similarly doused in alien ichor and equally tuckered out, slumped down next to his son. "Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"Just about every other week." John opened one eye and looked at his dad. "You know, I missed our little father-son outings."

Jack held up the sidearm he had finally been forced to use. "This isn't exactly fishing at Sawyer's Mill."

"Nope," agreed John. "By the way, what's with the Earth-made roscoe?"

Jack tucked the pistol into the holster under his flight-jacket. "It's a .357 magnum. You said it was dangerous, so I came prepared."

"You do know they have ray-guns and phasers and stuff out here, right?"

"Better safe than sorry. I actually know how to shoot guns with bullets."

"You won't be saying that when you run out of _steenking bullets_." John hoped the "Desperado" accent would get a laugh out of his dad; all he gave was a weak smile. "They don't make 'em out here, you know," John reminded him.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Jack. "Besides, pulse pistols aren't perfect. You said they don't work on scarrans."

"And you're hoping magnum rounds do?"

"Let's hope I never get to test that theory."

John grinned. "Well, they sure as hell work on giant alien... space-squid... uh... things. Good shot, by the way."

"Too good," said Noranti, who was bustling over a cooking pot nearby. "There's hardly enough left to make my famous traskan calamari."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Does _that_ happen often, Son?"

"Too often, Dad."

* * *

The terrace provided a marvelous view of the Royal Planet. Jack couldn't believe it; he was about to set foot on an alien planet. One that John had been to before...

"You've spent an awful lot of time up here, these past solar days." Jack looked up and saw Aeryn in the doorway.

"It's one hell of a view," said Jack.

Aeryn crossed the terrace and sat down. "Did John ever tell you what happened to him here?"

"No," said Jack, "but I did eventually get the others to tell me. Shotgun wedding, unborn daughter, and a guy named Tyno posing as my son so that he can be married the princess. Does that about size it up?"

"I suppose so, if you leave out the assassination attempts and the being a statue for eighty cycles."

"I'm never going to understand what happened to him out here, am I?"

"John... doesn't like to talk about the bad times," explained Aeryn. "He endured much pain here, and I think he wants to spare you of that pain as much as possible."

"Aw, dammit, Aeryn, what if I don't want to be spared?" cried Jack. "What if I just want to get to know my son again?"

"Then I think you should get to know him as he is," said Aeryn. "He went through so much, but he healed. And we healed with him. John was always like the sealant that held this crew together, and when he was hurt, we all felt it. Trust me when I tell you that he will not want to reopen old wounds, not this soon."

Jack didn't say anything for a long while after that. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the transparent ceiling of the terrace and gazed at the planet below.

* * *

The doors to the main audience chamber of the royal palace flew open wide. The assembled courtiers watched in awe as a luxan, a nebari, a hynerian, and four sebaceans strode confidently into the chamber. A herald sounded a trumpet and announced, "Presenting Captain Ka D'Argo and the crew of the leviathan Moya: Chiana, Dominar Rygel XVI of the Hynerian Empire, Captain Bialar Crais, Colonel Jim Kirk, and Commanders James Kirk and Aeryn Sun."

Empress Novia of the Sebacean Breakaway Colonies rose from her throne and gazed at the newcomers. "I shall receive them in my private audience chamber. Minister Mylen, see that our guests have rooms and refreshment, and have the Admiral and the Ambassadors meet us in two arns."

"Yes, Empress," replied an elderly official. He turned to the new arrivals and said, "Come with me, please. You will all meet with the Empress shortly."

The small party followed the minister down a maze of halls. They were each led to a suite of rooms, John and Aeryn last of all. Minister Mylen came to a halt at the door of their suite and stopped John. "The Empress will summon you in two arns... John Crichton."

John narrowed his eyes at the minister. "John Crichton is a pigeon-perch in your senate chamber."

"Ah. Then in must be a different John Crichton that keeps company with aliens on a leviathan, and destroys shadow depositories, Command Carriers, and Dreadnaughts." The minister smiled smugly. "Do not worry. I am also the keeper of records for Her Majesty, and I have seen the vid recording of Princess Katralla's wedding. I believe it is a noble thing you have done, giving up the regency so that Katralla and Tyno may be wed."

"Yeah, I'm all heart," said John. "It's okay, just so long as you don't go around advertising-"

"Worry not, Commander... _Kirk_. Your secrets are safe, so long as you remain within the palace walls."

"Is that a bit of friendly advice, then?"

"I only mean to say that rumors of your exploits have traveled here, and the common people do not know what to believe. Most feel that you are the impostor, using the name of their regent, but some suspect the truth. Be wary if you should choose to leave this place." With that, Minister Mylen left the human in peace.

* * *

Two arns later, the planetside portion of Moya's crew was ushered into a private conference chamber somewhere behind the throne room. Empress Novia was seated at the head of a long table, flanked by two of her ministers. Also in the room were a female luxan and a male ilanic, a male delvian, and two hynerians, one male and one female, both on hover-sleds.

"John Crichton," said the Empress regally, "the human from Earth. Allow me to introduce Ambassadors Li'ia and Olon of the Luxan-Ilanic Confederation, Pa'u Kalin Kelz of Delvia, and Minister Paoul and General Filyn of the Hynerian Empire." John watched a number of emotions pass through the aliens' faces as the Empress went around the table. They reacted to being the presence of John Crichton & Co. with varying mixtures of surprise, awe, wonder, and more than a little fear.

John was about to introduce himself and his companions, when the two hynerians immediately came forward and lowered their hover-sleds to the ground beneath Rygel. "Your Eminence!" cried the male hynerian, Minister Paoul. "The hynerian gods have smiled upon us this day, to finally bring you back to us! We remain your loyal servants, with hope that you will depose your traitorous cousin and reclaim your rightful throne!"

Rygel was taken aback, but quickly recovered his composure and nodded his approval. "And what say you, my dear general?"

General Filyn looked up at her dominar. "The Hynerian Royal Fleet is at your command, Dominar. Your cousin Bishan has made such a mess of ruling that your people will turn on him the microt you return. Do you realize that he is mere monens away from permanently dissolving the Council of Member Planets?"

Rygel gasped. Ever since Rygel I came to the throne, the Hynerian Member Council gave a democratic voice to the non-hynerian planets in the Empire. To dissolve the council would surely spark rebellion and instigate civil war. "So the fool thinks he knows how to be a tyrant, eh?" grumbled Rygel. "I'll have to teach him a thing or two about ruling an empire, just before I divorce him of his head! Rise, my subjects," he commanded, "and be grateful that your Dominar will reclaim his Empire soon!"

"Most inspiring," said the Empress wryly, "but I have brought you all here to determine what business you have in the Royal Colonies."

Once again, John opened his mouth to explain himself, but he was cut off when two sebacean men in well-worn Peacekeeper uniforms came into the room. D'Argo recognized the older one as Admiral Lyczak, and assumed the other one to be the admiral's executive officer. "He must have gotten my message," said the admiral. "John Crichton. It is indeed an honor to finally meet you. Though, I find your appearance surprising. You are truly not sebacean?"

"Nope; human," said John, as he had a million times before. "I'd say 'nice to meet you, too,' but I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Forgive me. I am Admiral Talyn Lyczak, head of Peacekeeper Special Directorate. I am here, Commander Crichton, to forge the alliances I need to overthrow High Command and end the corruption that has all but destroyed the Peacekeepers from within."

Aeryn sucked in her breath when the admiral gave his name, but John gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze and looked the Peacekeeper in the eye. "Talyn Lyczak, huh? Excuse me for _just_ a microt." In front of everybody, Crichton made a show of keeling down and checking under the table, and then leaning out the door and looking down the hallways.

"I'm sorry... what are you looking for?" asked the admiral.

"Oh, I don't know... Zhaan. D.K. Elvis, maybe. At the rate dead people are coming back to life, they could show up any microt now." Captain Crais _and_ a pair of Talyns. There was a poker joke in there somewhere, but John couldn't find it right now, and besides, only his dad would get it.

Admiral Lyczak looked at John with a mixture of puzzlement and... pride, John could have sworn. "Who told you I was dead?"

Aeryn came forward and faced the Peacekeeper. "My mother did. Xhalax Sun told me she killed you."

Talyn's face went stark white and his eyes seemed to glaze over. "Who... you're Xhalax's daughter?"

"Yes. I'm Aeryn."

The admiral's voice had suddenly lost its confident passion. His ingrained military bearing was similarly faltering. "My daughter?"

Aeryn wanted to believe this man. She saw his eyes, his face, the way he carried himself. She could see herself in him. He did not feel at all like the impostor on Valldon. Aeryn really wanted nothing more than to drop all of her carefully crafted defenses and rush into this stranger's embrace; and from the looks of him, he was thinking the very same. But no, thought Aeryn, for if this man really was Special Directorate, he could merely be a skilled disruptor, trained to play any assigned role flawlessly. "If you are my father, how are you not dead?"

"Please, Aeryn," said Talyn softly, "There's so much I want to tell you! But right now, we have to discuss the alliance-"

The ilanic ambassador cleared his throat and said, "Oh, no, please do continue. This little drama is quite fascinating."

"I would not seek to delay such a reunion any further," agreed the delvian priest. "I am wondering how a Peacekeeper officer could go from dead, to head of intelligence, to revolutionary."

"Very well," said Talyn, "but I do have one question for you first, Aeryn. Why are you here with John Crichton?"

Aeryn smiled at that. "He's my husband," she said simply.

Talyn nodded slowly, and then he did something that surprised everyone. He threw back his head and laughed, deep and loud. "Only _my_ daughter would fall in love with the one alien in the galaxy that scares the dren out of High Command. At least I know _you're_ who you claim to be." Talyn sighed to himself and proceeded with his story. "When High Command discovered that your mother had gone to you and told you about us, they decided to put us through a little test. Would we both be mindless, loyal Peacekeepers, or would we think for ourselves? We were both of us given a choice: kill each other, or kill you. Xhalax chose to come after me, and I allowed her to do so. I could not kill my daughter, and I could not kill my lover. So, I let Xhalax sabotage my Prowler and faked my death in a crash. It really wasn't hard; and everyone got what they wanted. Xhalax got to stay a Peacekeeper. You, Aeryn, got to live. And High Command... they found someone with a mind of his own. A perfect candidate for the Special Directorate. It's how I became an intelligence officer, and I was very good at my new job."

"You must have been," declared the Empress, "in order to become an Admiral on High Command and the head of the Special Directorate. So tell me how it is that a man such as yourself believes he can defeat the Peacekeepers?"

"Simply this," said Talyn. "I _am_ Peacekeeper Intelligence. Everything High Command knows, they learn from me. For the past seven cycles, I'd been preoccupied with the Nebari Establishment, using all my influence to make sure that the nebari and their contagion plot never reached this part of space. I started to hear rumors, though, of an alien who could command powerful weapons, one who destroyed both Peacekeeper and scarran ships and bases wherever he went. As time went on, the more conventional branches of the Peacekeepers, and even the Scarran Imperium, started bending more of their might into capturing this man standing before us: John Crichton.

"Captain Crais, the scientist Scorpius, Commandant Grayza... none of them could defeat you, Crichton. The scarrans fared no better, if the smoking remains of Katratzi are any testament. You knew of the scarran threat to all the races in these territories, and yet you would not ally yourself with the Peacekeepers. I began to ask myself 'why,' and it did not take long to see. As Special Directorate, I was often able to watch things from the outside, to gauge how we were seen by others. The Peacekeepers are _hated_ everywhere. The luxans and ilanics have only made a pact with us under the imminent threat of scarran invasion, and even then First Command was ready to break the treaty at a microt's notice.

"I came to realize that if we are to survive, we must go back to being what we were hundreds of cycles ago. The Peacekeepers must once again become keepers of the peace, defenders of the defenseless. That will not happen so long as High Command sits in its cloistered little seat of power, isolated away from the galaxy on Sebacea. So long as the Peacekeepers drive to conquer rather than protect, we will always be hated by those who could be our allies and ensure our survival.

"And so, I plan to use those forces under my control to strike swiftly, take Sebacea, and with it, control of the Peacekeepers. The delvian representative is here today because Delvia is the only planet in Peacekeeper space which has remained in an open state of rebellion, and has yet to be defeated. The delvians have already agreed to join-"

"The Rebel Alliance?" interrupted Crichton. "That's what this is, right? You're forming a Rebel Alliance?"

Admiral Lyczak regarded the goofy grin plastered on John Crichton's face. "Yes, that's it exactly. You find it amusing?"

"Let's just say I know how the movie ends. Please, go on, Admiral Ackbar."

So _this_ was John Crichton's renowned incomprehensible babble. No wonder he was so unpredictable. "The Luxan-Ilanic Confederation as agreed to join the alliance, contingent on our securing at least two other allies with fleets to match their own. The Hynerian Empire has such a fleet, as do the Royal Colonies. And you can imagine my surprise when I came here, and discovered that John Crichton was supposedly petrified in the senate chamber, waiting to become the next regent. One of my operatives had reported just that, but her reports conflicted with the rumors spreading throughout the Uncharted Territories that Crichton was still active.

"The Empress has agreed to add her forces to mine, on one condition, John Crichton. She wants you to make a formal declaration of alliance with the rebellion."

"And why would she want that?" asked Crichton, directing his gaze at Empress Novia.

"Because," she said, "the deception we crafted here nearly five cycles ago is failing. The people are starting to doubt that John Crichton is Katralla's husband and our next regent. You've made yourself too famous for your own good. Sooner or later, it will be discovered that you are the biological father of Katralla's daughter, and when that happens, the people must look upon you favorably. Otherwise, her claim to the throne will be suspect and the line of succession would be endangered. This, I cannot allow. So, I am prepared to make you commander of the Sebacean Royal Fleet, but unless you are the one who leads it, at least in name, I will not commit our forces to fighting the Peacekeepers."

John Crichton was stunned. He looked around at each and every face in the room, particularly those of his friends and family. Aeryn was equally shocked, and Jack Crichton was positively flabbergasted. He had no idea just how much chaos his son had brought to the galaxy. Everyone was staring at John. _Great. The ball's in my court now. It's decision time, Buck Rogers._ "So let me get this straight: we're about to attempt a coup d'etat, _on Sebacea_ , with our aim being what, exactly? To end Peacekeeper control of charted space? To bring back the guardians of peace and justice throughout the galaxy that they were before the dark times? All of this, ultimately so that the Peacekeepers become the good guys again, and they can make enough friends to stop the scarrans and the nebari?" John looked around and held back his response just long enough to increase the tension for everyone in the room... "Sure! I love this plan! I'm excited to be a part of it! I do have one condition, though."

Admiral Lyczak raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"The luxans and the ilanics join if the royals join. The royals join if I join. I'll jump on your wagon if, and _only_ if, the Hynerian Empire throws in with us, under the banner of Dominar Sparky Fluffy Spanky Buckwheat Guido Napoleon Rygel XVI!"

"Crichton, if you ever address me by one of those insipid nicknames again, I just may consider ordering your execution."

"But you can't do that until you're the dominar again."

"Once a dominar, always a dominar! But for the moment, I say... yes. Retake my planet, seat me on my throne, and I will join your Rebel Alliance."

"Well, there ya go," said Crichton. "I'm on board." He turned to Talyn and said, "You're really Aeryn's dad, aren't you?" It was more statement than question.

"Yes, John Crichton. I have not deceived any of you."

With a smile that lit up her beautiful face and made many of the males present _very_ jealous of John Crichton, Aeryn darted forward and embraced her father. "How would you like to meet your granddaughter, Dad?"


	6. The Farscape Future Series, Part 2 - Far Wars

**Chapter 1: Butch & Sundance Ride Again**

Six months later...

Astronavigation is not an easy science. Even the most sophisticated computers have difficulty accounting for all the variables that affect interstellar travel. The galaxy is moving away from all other galaxies as the universe expands, and each star is revolving around the galactic core at its own velocity. Interdimensional forms of travel, such as StarBurst and wormholes, are anchored by gravity - the galaxy won't accidentally leave you behind if you jump out of this dimension - and so astronavigational data is mostly unneeded. Because of the random nature of these technologies, though, such data is also worthless. This is not true for non-relativistic space travel. The hetch drive warps spacetime around a vessel and does away the unpleasantness of inertia, time dilation, and the light barrier, but it must still carry a ship through realspace, from point A to point B. In order to do that with any sort of efficiency, one must have up-to-date maps.

This was why two sebaceanoids in black leather dusters now sat in the back of a dark, smoky bar on an out-of-the-way little commerce planet on the edge of the Uncharted Territories. Six long monens had been spent in preparation: planning, gathering intelligence, consolidating their forces. The rebellion against the Peacekeepers had grown in its list of allies, though the bulk of the fleet was still composed of Peacekeeper Rebels, Royal Colonists, and Luxan-Ilanic Confederates. Because their very existence depended still on absolute secrecy, they had yet to make a move. Soon, though, they would tip their hand and act to liberate Delvia. All they needed was a hidden route into the system from a jumping-off point in the Uncharted Territories.

The female sebacean was annoyed, because her mate insisted that they wear dark oculars-that-weren't which came from his home planet, a means of supposedly concealing their identities. The very idea was preposterous - the locals were red-speckled, amphibious tripeds, for frelling out loud! No, she thought, shaking her head to clear her thoughts... frelling loudly would have to wait until they returned to their leviathan. Her inner musings were interrupted by the familiar alien accent of the male sitting next to her, his head resting on hers as she leaned on his shoulder.

"You're telling me _this_ backwater rock has an astrocartographer just hanging around, waiting to sell people his map fibers?"

"That's what our contact on Domoan III said."

"But Moneypenny, how do you know he didn't really work for SPECTRE?" grinned John Crichton, doing his best Sean Connery impression. Aeryn Sun Crichton peeled off her sunglasses and frowned at her husband, obviously missing the joke. John likewise removed his shades and rubbed his eyes in silent frustration with his one free hand (the other arm being presently occupied, wrapped as it was around Aeryn). "And I s'pose this map guy'll want us to cough up the currency at his asking retail price, am I right?"

Aeryn nodded pensively, not really paying attention to John's question. Her eyes were darting around the room, always on guard and ready for trouble. Trouble, Aeryn had decided a long time ago, was going to find them wherever they went, so it helped to spot it first. When three aliens in black cloaks appeared in the doorway, Aeryn realized that trouble, "rat bastard" that it was (to borrow a Crichtonism), had found them once again. Rattlers, willies, pricklers, spider-sense, heebie-jeebies... the former Peacekeeper became keenly aware of all the Earth-phrases she knew that signaled a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

John Crichton's mental process at the moment was much simpler than Aeryn's. He had noticed the three menacing figures appear in the bar as quickly as Aeryn had - feeling her body tense up next to his had been more than a dead giveaway that something was up. But right now, he was wondering whether he would call them "Larry, Moe, and Curly" or "Huey, Dewey, and Louie" when the inevitable opportunity to exchange insulting banter arose. Then again, he hadn't used "Groucho, Harpo, and Chico" or "Yakko, Wakko, and Dot" yet…

The trio crossed the room and headed straight for John and Aeryn. The rest of the bar's clientele suddenly fell silent, all eyes turning to watch the impending confrontation. "Not good," whispered John. His hand drifted down to Winona.

The center figure removed his black hood, revealing the red-flecked, wide-mouthed face of one of the local beings that John had come to think of as three-legged frogmen. If his wrinkled skin was any judge, this particular alien was either drying out, or elderly. "You both are under arrest," he croaked.

"What for?" John and Aeryn snapped in unison. They glanced at each other briefly; that was happening all too often lately.

"We do not tolerate Peacekeepers on this planet. You will come with us."

"And s'posing we don't want to?" grumbled John.

The frogman produced a pulse rifle from underneath his cloak.

"Oh." John felt Aeryn brush against his leg as her own pulse pistol was drawn, still hidden underneath their table. She was whispering something, John noticed, something that nobody here could possibly understand... _"One, Mippippippi, one... two, Mippippippi, two... three, Mippippippi, THREE!"_

In a flash, they dove to either side of the table, cross-firing a salvo of angry, red pulses of light. The frogman was slower on the uptake, firing right between where John and Aeryn had been seated and destroying the booth. Falling and rolling, the sebacean and the human stood on either side of the three figures and stopped firing when they realized that their pulse blasts were having no effect. The two cloaked men flanking the alien were blocking their shots with gauntleted wrists!

"Tavloids!" muttered John.

"Tavleks," sighed Aeryn.

These beings removed their hoods as well, revealing the chrome-dome face plates that unmistakably marked them as tavlek mercenaries. Both were sneering in sheer distain at the two foolish "Peacekeepers."

"Just out of friendly curiosity, Sheriff, what exactly is the penalty for looking like a Peacekeeper 'round these here parts?" asked John, never lowering his pistol.

"My title is 'Constable,' not 'Sheriff," retorted the alien, "and the penalty is execution."

"Well isn't that right neighborly of y'all?" drawled John. He was having too much fun with the looks he was drawing from Aeryn to abandon the "good ol' boy" routine right away.

"Enough of this," grunted the frogman. "Take them away,"

The tavleks raised their gauntlets and fired. John and Aeryn were defenseless, and crumpled to the ground when the blue energy pulses struck them dead-on.

* * *

John awoke in a dingy cell to the feel of Aeryn's body pressed against his. He coughed and rolled over to face her.

"You're awake," she whispered, stroking John's cheek.

Aeryn's voice sounded weak, which in turn filled John with anger. "Oh God, Aeryn, did they do anything to you?"

Aeryn shook her head. "I only woke up a few microts before you. But they took our comms, our currency, and our weapons."

Footsteps in the hall instantly caused John and Aeryn to pull each other up to their feet. "Showtime," whispered John.

One of the tripeds opened the cell door, while another raised a pulse rifle. "Move," he grunted.

John and Aeryn were marched into a dimly lit room with a single chair what appeared to be a large, rough, wooden box. The wrinkled constable was in the room waiting for them.

"So, sebacean scum, why have you come to our planet?" he croaked.

"Cajun-fried frogs' legs," said John.

The alien's toady lips curled into a sneer. "For that, you're going into the box first. Put him in!" The structure had a slatted door on the front of it, which the constable opened just before one of the guards roughly shoved John in.

"No!" shouted Aeryn, rushing forward. She was promptly rifle-butted by the other guard. The constable flicked his wrist, and the guard hauled Aeryn up and set her on the chair in the center of the room.

"The male," sneered the constable, "is your... no, not your mate. Peacekeepers don't take lifemates, do you? But he is your _recreating_ partner, is he not?"

Aeryn's face froze. She said nothing, but glared icy daggers at her interrogator.

"Good," rasped the frogman. "Now, you will answer my questions. Each time you do not answer, I will raise the temperature in the box by one unit. I hear that the Living Death is the most gruesome way for a sebacean to go..."

 _Frell me dead, is that all?_ thought Aeryn. _John Crichton, you really are one lucky drannit._ Aeryn spat at the alien's feet. "I'll never talk."

"Just so you know I'm serious," said the constable. He motioned to one of the guards, who cranked up a thermostat dial.

"Now, why have you come to this planet?"

* * *

Arn one...

_God, I hope they don't hurt Aeryn. If they do, I'm really going to be pissed. I wonder what this box is for._

* * *

Arn two...

_It's getting kind of steamy in here. Man, you'd think Pip and Jool would take a hint by now and come bust us out of here._

* * *

Arn three...

_If they've hurt Aeryn, I'm gonna build a damn displacement engine and go Death Star on this whole frelling planet... God damn, what do they call this? Death by sauna?_

* * *

Arn four...

_You know, it's times like this that I really miss Harvey... NO! No, no! I take that back!_

* * *

Arn five…

_I hope Chi remembered to give Hope the bottle in the cooling unit..._

Mmm... cooling unit...

* * *

Arn six...

"Well?" said the constable gleefully. "Has he broken yet? This Peacekeeper tralk won't say anything, but maybe her tongue will loosen when she sees her fellow sebacean in a drooling coma!"

"Um, actually, sir..."

"What?"

"I think you'd better take a look at this."

The constable opened the door on the sauna, which by now was at least 25 units above the temperature needed to induce permanent heat delirium in sebaceans. John Crichton, who had been drumming a rhythm on the floor and whistling "Bridge on the River Kwai," looked up. "Hey, fellas! Is my steam bath over yet?"

The frogman was enraged. "How are you not dead, Peacekeeper?"

"Peacekeeper?" asked John with an innocent, blank stare. "Oh, did I forget to say something? In order to be a Peacekeeper, first I'd have to be sebacean!"

Looks of utter confusion came over the aliens as John Crichton stood up and walked out of the hotbox. Aeryn was still on the chair, looking weary and worried, but she became instantly relieved when she saw John. "I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen..." she said.

"Nobody ever does," said Crichton.

"But... but... you have to be Peacekeeper spies, you _must_ be!" cried the constable.

"And how did we come to that brilliant deduction, Holmes?"

The frogman withdrew three comms from a pocket in his cloak. "You have two normal comms devices, obviously linked to your ship, and a third comms with a dedicated link! Who is to? Tell me! A disruptor cell? A Command Carrier? High Command?"

The comms crackled to life with the unmistakable sound of a one-cycle-old child whose parents were three arns late coming home. "You frog-faced frellniks," groaned Aeryn, "went and made my daughter cry!"

"Nobody does that to _my_ little girl," growled John, noting happily that there were no tavoids to be seen. He cracked one of his knuckles and went for the nearest guard.

* * *

"That black eye looks ugly," said Aeryn. "We'll have to have Jool take a look at it when we get back to Moya."

"I'll bet it's a real shiner," said John, drawing a grin and a headshake from Aeryn.

They came to a small, run-down shop that really wasn't too far from the bar where they had been abducted earlier. "This is the place," she said.

The interior of the shop wasn't much to look at; it looked more like a junk heap than an establishment for high-tech astrocartography. A curtain in the rear of the shop parted, and out stepped a delvian male who looked positively ancient (which was saying something, considering how slowly delvians age). "Ah, favored customers! How may I help you, gentle-beings?"

"We're looking for a map-maker named Sidlam," said Aeryn.

"You have found him!" said the old man. "You wish a map to where? What system?"

"Delvia," said John. "And make it snappy."

"Ah... ah... yes, yes, I have the map fibers you desire... a bargain, too. Only 1200 kretmas."

"Why so cheap?" asked Aeryn suspiciously.

"You are the freedom fighters," whispered the merchant. "You will save my planet."

John dropped a pouch of currency on the counter. "Why knows? We just may pull it off," he said.

The delvian smiled and handed over the package of navigational data. "Best of luck," he called as the two warriors left his shop.

* * *

Sidlam smiled wickedly to himself and spun around in circles, letting the blue melt away from his skin, straightening his posture, and changing his simple homespun robes into a Gothic black cloak. Maldis didn't need to take petty revenge on the human and his friends. Chaos, death, and sorrow followed them wherever they went. Now they were about to start a war, and he was perfectly happy to help them along. Soon, there would be so much negative emotion in the galaxy that his hunger would be satiated for cycles on end... _Go and have your war, John Crichton, and give me the energy I need to grow powerful once again..._

* * *

**Chapter 2: War Dogs**

The war room aboard the PK Command Carrier _Gymettion_ was typically filled with officers and tech chiefs holding conference at all arns of the day cycle. This late into ship's-night, though, the war room was almost deserted. Almost.

The deck officer came into the room, which was only dimly lit during the night cycle, and gazed at the far wall. The banner of the Peacekeeper Interplanetary Services - a black wedge and silhouetted sphere on a red background - had been replaced by the symbol the rebels had adopted, the red replaced by white, like the old Peacekeeper symbol from hundreds of cycles before. The rumor among the grunts was that Aeryn Sun had provided an authentic, five-hundred-cycle-old Peacekeeper badge to base the design on.

The officer pulled his eyes away from the banner and walked quietly to the far end of the chamber. On either side of the conference table, just beneath one of the dimmed running-lights, there sat two men conversing in low tones as they took turns picking up and setting down stiff slips of paper.

"Sirs," said the officer, "it's 19th arn, and ship's security is on final rotation. Just letting you know."

"Thank you, Officer," said Talyn Lyczak, never looking up from the cards in his hand. "Get some sleep. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir," said the deck officer. "Admiral. Colonel." He gave two curt nods and excused himself from the room.

Jack Crichton reached into his pocket and pulled out a wristwatch. "What do you know," he said. "Quarter to 1 A.M. How long have we been at this?"

"Long enough that I can read your numerals now, without counting the... 'pips,' you call them? Three of clubs," Talyn announced, discarding from his hand.

Jack drew a card from the stock. "Any word from Moya today? They never stay with the fleet very long. Queen of spades."

"No, but I did hear from Commodore Crais and that amazing gunship of his. They've gone ahead into the Delvian system to gather intelligence. Six of diamonds. It seems that with the scarrans still licking their wounds, the Peacekeepers have been able to place two full Command Carriers in the system."

"That's an awful lot of firepower. It's lucky for us the luxans have volunteered to spearhead the first attack." Jack drew the six that Talyn had discarded and dropped the seven of spades on the pile.

"More than lucky," said Talyn. "It's essential. If one of those command carriers were to see Peacekeeper vessels attacking before we could jam their communications, we would be in very deep dren. Jack of spades."

"Aha!" said Jack, pulling the card into his hand. He laid ten cards on the table. "Knocking with 2 points of deadwood."

"I see," said Talyn, smugly laying his own hand on the table. Three melds and a lone ace. "I believe I've undercut you, Jack."

"Why you crafty son of a... you were holding out for gin, weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"Well, even an old pro has to lose to beginner's luck every once and a while." Jack gathered up the cards and started shuffling while Talyn marked the scores on a nearby piece of scratch-flimsy. "Talyn, do you know what I've just realized?"

"What's that, Jack?"

"We're old. The kids want to benefit from our experience, and then charge the front lines and be heroes while we sit on our asses."

"The curse of command," said Talyn. "We're expected to make all the hard decisions, and then step aside for the younger generation to carry them out."

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

Talyn raised an eyebrow at the colloquialism, but merely responded, "It does." The admiral yawned, fatigue finally catching up to him. They would be arriving in the Delvian system in two solar days, and already he was staying up late in anticipation of the coming battle. In was in this foggy state of mind that he came to a realization of his own, however obvious it was to every single being in his fleet. "Do you know what this is, Jack? Right now, I mean?"

"Yes I do, Talyn." Rattlers. In spades. "This is the calm before the storm."

* * *

"Quietly!" hissed Rygel. "Quietly now, Polly." The first time Crichton ever heard Rygel call his daughter that, he realized that his microbes were doing their darnedest to translate a Hynerian term of affection. Apparently, hynerians often referred to their young by a word that translated into English as a diminutive form of "pollywog" or "tadpole." Well, at least the microbes were _trying_ , bless their little... uh... ribosomes.

Hope Crichton, barely a cycle old, was already walking all over the ship. Pilot had been forced to have the DRDs "baby-proof" half of Moya. Unfortunately, that never stopped Hope from following Rygel into the many ducts and crawlspaces that crisscrossed the interior of the leviathan. That was why Rygel and Hope were, at the moment, hiding in the ventilation shaft that led into Chiana's quarters.

The two were a mismatched pair of ever there was one. A one-cycle-old hybrid and a pureblooded royal of over four-hundred cycles: who would ever think that they could become inseparable companions in mischief? And yet, Rygel doted upon the little toddler like a rich great-uncle, while Hope positively adored her funny-looking companion. They always had such great adventures together.

"Ana?" asked Hope, looking through the bars that closed them off from Chiana's quarters.

"Yes," said Rygel, carefully removing the grille and setting it down. "Chiana's room. Chiana's possessions." He chuckled to himself and padded softly across the room, while Hope bounced along behind him. The child had short, dark curls - undoubtedly, she would have hair like her mother's one day - and blue eyes that were every bit as curious as her father's. She came up behind Rygel as he opened the bottom drawer of a chest next to Chiana's bed. "And now, what do we do, Polly?"

"Nurch!" she said, fully enjoying the game.

"That s right," grinned Rygel. "Snurch!"

Their fun wasn't to last, though. **"You** ** _frelling_** **little frog! I'm going to tear out your mivonks and feed them to you, just before I** ** _shove you out an airlock!"_** Chiana's angry shouts echoed down the corridors of Moya.

"Oh no!" whispered Rygel to his co-conspirator. "We've been found out! Quick, hide!"

"'N' seek!" Hope giggled, ducking under the bed with Rygel.

"Yotz, I hope not," groaned the hynerian as Chiana's footsteps came closer.

* * *

Talyn had grown in the past six monens. He was nearly Moya's size now. His firepower had essentially doubled, and that was without even counting the biomechanoid fighters (designated "Hunters" by Crais) that he had grown in place of transport pods. Even more impressive, however, were Talyn's intelligence-gathering capabilities. When Admiral Lyczak promoted Crais to the rank of Commodore, he also had Talyn outfitted with the latest in Peacekeeper Intelligence technology. This gunship alone would be more than enough to jam the orbiting carriers' communications, giving the luxans, rebels, and colonials free rein to attack in full force.

Talyn had been in the system for nearly three solar days, flying between outer-orbit moons along stealth trajectories and gauging the full extent of Peacekeeper presence at Delvia. As Crais had reported earlier, there were two full Command Carriers here, but little else in the surrounding sectors.

Crais stood on the bridge, while John sat near the weapons console and Aeryn watched sensor readings. Stark was pacing back and forth in the hallway outside, muttering to himself, but that wasn't unusual.

According to their predetermined timetable, the fleet would arrive at the edge of sensor range in one quarter-arn. Timing was everything. «Steady, Talyn. 350 more microts.» Crais felt the leviathan silently counting down. "Now, Talyn!" he said aloud when the time came. "Jam all communications in the Delvian system!"

Talyn chirped and activated his powerful hyperwave disruptors. With luck, the Peacekeepers wouldn't notice until it was too late.

600 microts later, three PK Command Carriers, eight Luxan Cruisers, and four Royal Destroyers came blasting into the Delvian system at maximum hetch speed.

* * *

Colonel Jack Crichton had never imagined anything like this. He was on the bridge of a massive warship with enough firepower to raze a planet to rubble. They were at the head of a fleet that contained several such warships, and all of them were converging on a green planet that orbited a yellow star, a planet where blue-skinned plant-people lived. Delvians, Jack reminded himself. He wished that he could have met Zhaan, the one who had been John's friend and had been such a powerful influence on his son when he had first arrived in this part of the galaxy. There was no time for regrets, though. The show was about to begin. _And oh, what heights we'll hit; on with the show, this is it!_

"Open laser-pulse channels to both carriers," ordered Admiral Lyczak. Normal comms wouldn't function with Talyn jamming the entire system.

"Hailing, sir," said the comms tech. "It's on screen."

The front viewer changed to a split screen, showing a young male captain with spiked hair on the left, and an older female with black hair drawn into a tight queue on the right. "Captain Braca, Captain Velku," said Admiral Lycak. "So good of you to join us."

"Sir!" said Braca, recognizing the uniform of the admiralty and standing at attention.

Velku wasn't so quick to be impressed. "What is the meaning of this?" she barked.

"It's quite simple," said Talyn. "We are taking this system from the Peacekeepers. Your choices are surrender... or annihilation. As you can see, we have the effective strength of ten Command Carriers, meaning that you are sorely outmatched, five to one."

The female captain balked at the audacity of this man in front of her, regardless of his rank. The calm demeanor with which the admiral delivered his ultimatum was belied by a barely-perceptible glint of madness in his eye. Yes, she decided, this man was truly insane.

"Captain Braca, stand aside please." A smooth voice brought the conversation to a halt, as Braca nodded and stepped out of view. His face was replaced by one that could only be described as ghoulish - pallid and wrinkled, with sunken eyes and a perfectly arrogant smirk. "As I thought. John Crichton's father."

It was then that Jack realized this demon incarnate was staring directly at him. He felt his throat tighten and his mouth go dry.

"Scorpius!" sneered Captain Velku. "What _are_ you blabbering about?"

Scorpius ignored the captain. "If Jack Crichton is with you, then so is John Crichton. Admiral, you do not merely have my surrender; you have my loyalty. Captain Braca, order the helm to join up with the fleet that has come into the system."

Braca was stunned, but recovered his wits quickly. "Yes, Scorpius!" he said smartly. The captain turned to relay his orders.

Talyn Lyczak was surprised by this turn of events, but he wasn't about to let it show. "Captain Velku, I must amend my previous assessment. You are now outnumbered eleven to one. Stand down your ship, or it will be stood down for you!"

"Traitors! I'm surrounded by traitors!" she shouted. "Gunnery, bring forward frag cannons to full power! Launch all Prowlers and Marauders! I'll see you probaktos in hezmana!" The comms were cut, and the screen went blank.

Admiral Lyczak sighed. "It's a shame that all the men, women, and children on that carrier should pay for their captain's folly..."

"Then give them the chance to choose, Admiral," said Jack.

"What?"

"Disable their weapons and their engines, but don't destroy the carrier. Sort the people out after their ship is taken out of the equation."

The thought hadn't occurred to Talyn. The idea that he could save even some of the people on that vessel, though, filled him with a new fire in his spirit... "Tactical, relay new orders. All ships are to target the enemy's weapons and propulsion systems. Standing orders are to destroy enemy Prowlers and Marauders, but disable that command carrier!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Begun, begun, begun, the war and violence and war and violence! Going to die, dying to go!" shouted Stark.

The comms on the Hunter he had absconded with came to life with shouts from Crais and Crichton together. "Astro, what the hell are you doing?" yelled John.

"Stark, I order you to return to Talyn this instant!" shouted Crais.

Stark closes his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "I am going to Delvia," he said calmly. "Zhaan will want me there. We have brought violence to her homeworld, and I must calm her soul." Ignoring more commands from Crais, Stark juked and jinked the fighter into several hairpin turns, making it impossible to keep a direct laser-link with Talyn. The comms went dead. "Dead, dead, all dead..."

* * *

**Chapter 3: Dea ex Delvia**

Explosions shook the powerful plasma-ion engines of the Peacekeeper Command Carrier _Tivay_. Scorpius's carrier had turned the full might of its heavy frag cannons on the other vessel at point-blank range, while strafing runs from luxan destroyers eliminated the enemy's weapons embankments. With three other full Command Carriers and the Breakaway Colonies fleet wiping out Prowlers and Marauders left and right, the first space battle of the war was a short one, a decisive victory for the Alliance.

A trio of Talyn's Hunter-class starfighters set down in the _Tivay's_ main docking bay. Commander John Crichton, Commander Aeryn Sun Crichton, and Commodore Bialar Crais emerged from the imposing biomechanoid fighters and took stock of their surroundings. The docking bay was in a state of chaos; techs were running all about, barely managing to control a number of blazing fires. Disorganized bands of soldiers scrambled through the halls without purpose. Officers shouted orders that fell on deaf ears.

Aeryn pointed her pulse rifle at a nearby lieutenant and shouted, "Halt!" The officer froze, his eyes wide in fear. "You will take us to the bridge," Aeryn commanded.

The lieutenant's features steeled. "I'd sooner die, traitor."

"Very well," said Crais. Before Aeryn or John could stop him, Crais drew his pulse pistol and fired two quick shots into the lieutenant's chest. The officer crumpled to the floor.

Crichton stared at Crais, open-mouthed. "You didn't have to do that!"

Crais rolled his eyes. "We've no time for arguing with petty officers. I can lead you to the bridge myself."

"That's not what- I mean, you didn't have to kill him."

"Crichton, my pistol is on its lowest power setting. He may very well recover within the arn. Now, follow me." Crais turned and walked ahead, hands clasped behind his back.

"Are you finished?" asked Aeryn. Without waiting for an answer, she followed Crais towards the corridor on the far side of the hangar.

"Yes I am," said John to nobody in particular. "So sorry for caring."

* * *

The door to the carrier's command center hissed, smoked, and burst open. Crais walked in, pulse pistol raised, flanked by Aeryn with her heavy pulse rifle and John, a pistol in each hand, looking for all the world like an edgy space-cowboy.

John spun around and made sure to point a gun at everybody in the room at least once. His eyes finally settled on Captain Velku, staring aghast at having armed warriors break onto her bridge. " _Hellooo_ , Command-Carrier-Captain-Nurse!" There was no way in hell that anybody, not even Aeryn, would pick up on that pop-culture reference; best to scare these people straight right now and show them all who was in charge. "Hi, my name is John, and I'll be arresting your sorry ass this evening!" He glanced at Crais and added, "Book 'em, Dano."

Crais raised an eyebrow. "As usual, Crichton, you are a paragon of incomprehensibility."

"It's a gift. Now put the nice lady in handcuffs so we can get on with taking over the ship."

"Never mind; I'll do it," said Aeryn, lowering her rifle and reaching for a pair of binders. One of the bridge security officers slowly reached for his weapon...

"Oh, wrong move, Chuckles." John's right-hand pulse pistol (Winona, naturally) was instantly pointed at the soldier's face. "You aren't that lucky. Guns on the floor, slowly."

Aeryn was amazed when the bridge officers complied; these were battle-hardened Peacekeepers, and they were petrified by the presence of the infamous John Crichton. Taking the binders, she approached the captain.

Captain Velku seemed to overcome her bewilderment when Aeryn came near. She drew back and shouted, "You-you're madmen! What makes you think you can possibly take over this ship!"

"In truth, we're not taking over the ship, we're taking over the _bridge_ ," said Aeryn, calmly forcing the captain's wrists into the cuffs. "Our Marauder crews are the ones taking over your ship, Captain."

"Subduing techs and off-duty grots," sneered Velku. "You won't find our planetside ground forces so submissive, traitor."

"'Traitor,'" said Aeryn. "Interesting. I wonder how many times the Peacekeepers have betrayed their supposed allies? I know they betrayed the luxans, and the hynerians, and the delvians down on that planet... and countless others, I imagine."

"Worthless lesser races..."

"Oh, no," said Aeryn. "You shouldn't have said that..."

John slowly turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the captain in a menacing gesture that would have made Clint Eastwood proud. He walked up to the captain, looked her directly in the eye, and said evenly, "Do you have a problem with non-sebaceans?"

Captain Velku's face betrayed her confusion at the question, but with an air of perfect superiority, she responded, "Why wouldn't I? And why would you care?"

"You really don't know who I am, do you?" John half-grinned and pointed his pulse pistol at a tech. "You! Who am I?"

"Y-y-you're... J-John Crichton. The human. Sir!"

The captain paled visibly, and John thought he saw her mouth the words, "oh, dren." He pressed on: "Did I mention that I have a daughter? One cycle old... she's the prettiest little girl you ever saw, too. You'd never know that she was only half-sebacean..." Velku gave a roar of anger and tried to rush at John, but Aeryn's steadfast grip held her in place. John leaned in close and whispered, "Welcome to my galaxy, Captain."

* * *

Talyn sped away from the carrier, full squadrons of Marauders trailing behind. Admiral Lyczak had crossed over to the _Tivay_ to personally oversee repairs and reassignment of staff officers; the majority of the techs and soldiers would merely retain their stations and do what they were trained to do: follow orders without question. Now the Peacekeeper ground forces were getting ready to follow the luxans and the Breakaway Colonies forces (with Crichton resuming command) on the surface of Delvia.

Aeryn leapt out of her Hunter and met up with the senior officer in charge of the Marauder commandos. "Commander Sun, Ma'am! Senior Officer Dag Hal, Flakon Company, Gostir Regiment. The ground presence has retreated into the capital city, and is presently falling back to the central temple. The colonial and luxan forces are positioned on the west side of the city, awaiting your signal. Your fa-I mean, Admiral Lyczak ordered us to coordinate our assault with the local resistance cells; the delvian commander is waiting for you, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Officer," Aeryn said with a curt nod. She started to walk in the direction the officer had indicated, but then she paused and turned back. "Senior Officer Hal, can I ask you a question?"

"A... question?" From the look on his face, Aeryn could tell that Dag Hal didn't get asked many questions by his superiors.

"It's a simple one," said Aeryn. "How do you and your soldiers feel about fighting your fellow Peacekeepers?"

"We follow our orders, Ma'am."

"I'd expect nothing less, but how do you _feel_ about it?"

Officer Hal wrestled with the question. "Feelings" didn't typically enter into being a soldier for the Peacekeepers. "Truthfully, Ma'am, none of us likes killing fellow sebaceans. But we know why we have to. The Peacekeepers should have brought peace to this planet, not war."

"And what about working alongside colonials, delvians, and luxans?"

"It... took some getting used to at first. Then most of us decided that we'd rather have warriors like the luxans on our side rather than the enemy's." Offcier Hal managed a half-hearted smile.

"Wise decision," said Aeryn. "You have your orders, Officer. Carry on."

* * *

John Crichton marched at the head of an elite company of Royal soldiers. Unlike the Peacekeepers, the Breakaway Colonies soldiers weren't the stuffed shirts he had come to expect from sebacean military. He also noticed early on that the men in his companies outnumbered the women by a significant ratio. In a way, the Colonial military reminded him a great deal of the armies he knew on Earth.

Pulse blasts could be heard from the east side of the city; Aeryn and the delvians must have begun their assault. Crichton waved one of his pistols towards a small building across the street. The lieutenant crouched next to him nodded and shouldered his pulse rifle before giving a hand signal of his own. The squads rushed forward and spread out, moving building to building.

Crichton kicked open the door of another building down the way, and stepped aside so his lieutenant could throw in a flash-grenade. Then Crichton and his unit darted inside.

Two Peacekeepers were in the room; the squad took them by surprise and made quick work of them, a volley of pulse-fire bringing them both down in a microt. John looked down and realized that the two soldiers had been standing over the body of a delvian woman, shot dead very recently by all indications. The woman was bald, and wearing Pa'u robes. John couldn't help but think that she looked so much like Zhaan. _Would this girl still be alive if we hadn't attacked here?_

"Move-" John tried to command his men to move on to the next building, but his voice caught in his throat. "Let's go," he whispered.

* * *

Aeryn ducked behind a portion of stone wall as a pulse blast kicked rubble into the air over her head.

"We're pushing them back," said Voli'im, the delvian resistance commander. He and his fellow freedom-fighters all wore heavy, black body armor - if it weren't for the fact that they wore no helmets, they might have looked like Peacekeepers. "I can't believe those... those _phrekmas_ are trying to fall back into the Temple of the Seek! If they so much as lay hands on the Pa'u... I'll kill them all myself."

Aeryn was taken aback by the soldier's words. "A Pa'u that I became very good friends with once claimed that hers was the only species that did not thrive on conflict."

Voli'im leaned around the corner of the wall and fired a burst of energy pulses. "That sounds like a priest, all right. But we had to become soldiers, to fight for the resistance."

"Actually, Zhaan was in the resistance. She didn't become a priest until after she killed her lover, a Peacekeeper collaborator."

"You mean Zotoh Zhaan?! Why, she was a great warrior, trained by the monks of the Seek! Zhaan led my..." The delvian paused and looked at Aeryn in wonder. "She became a Pa'u?"

"Of the 10th level," said Aeryn. "She... died about three cycles ago."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. Zotoh Zhaan was a great inspiration to us all."

Aeryn peeked over the wall and laid down another spread of pulse blasts. The Peacekeepers had lost their position and were falling back again. Aeryn ducked back behind the wall. "Zhaan was more than that... she was a dear friend, almost a mother to us at times."

"Our fight here honors her memory," said Voli'im. "Come; our foes near the temple. When they reach it, we must be there to prevent-"

"To prevent them from harming any Pa'u, yes, I-"

"No," said the delvian, blinking in surprise. "We must be there prevent their escaping from the warrior-monks inside!"

Aeryn's mouth fell open. _Delvian warrior-monks..._

"Hey, Aeryn!" shouted John over the comms. "We're in position on the western flank. You guys ready over there?"

"Yes, John," replied Aeryn. "We're about one city block away from the temple entrance. The Peacekeepers have all retreated inside."

"Any ideas for smokin'em out?" asked John. "We could always try cheese on a giant mousetrap or the old 'carrot under a box and stick' routine."

"Crichton?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"Stop babbling."

"Listen to me," said Voli'im. "We shouldn't have to wait much longer. Any microt now-"

* * *

The doors of the temple burst open, and Peacekeepers backed their way _out_ of the temple. They were pinned down by Alliance soldiers only all sides, to be sure, but normal soldiers were better than... those _things_ in the temple and their mad, masked leader.

One unlucky PK unit lingered by the temple doors too long; a pair of delvians in form-fitting black attire darted forward and became a hurricane of kicks and punches. Armor cracked and bones broke, blood splattered and necks snapped. Then the warrior-monks seemed to vanish into shadows.

Less subtle was the lone figure, a pulse carbine in each hand, spraying the air with red bolts of light. A remarkable number of the shots found their mark, considering the poor depth perception of the one-eyed banik who fired them. **"Zhaan would not approve of this use of violence!"** he roared, as three more Peacekeepers fell dead. "She would not approve of this..." A bolt hit one soldier square in the face-plate. "Or of this..." Two blasts took the legs out from under another. "And certainly not of _this_!" Stark held down the pulse chamber overload button and hurled one of the rifles into a unit of fleeing soldiers. The explosion produced a small crater and threw shrapnel and entrails in all directions.

Stark lowered his remaining rifle when he realized that no more targets presented themselves. He cast aside the weapon and closed his eyes. "Let your soul rest in peace, my love."

* * *

John whistled. "Did you see _that_ , Aeryn?"

"Yes," she replied over the comms. "The delvian warrior-monks are remarkable fighters."

"Monks nothing, I was talking about Stark's Rambo impression!"

"I'm on the other side of the temple, John. I only saw a bunch delvians take out fully armed and armored Peacekeepers with their _bare hands_. I think I understand now why Father wanted to liberate _this_ planet first."

* * *

John and Aeryn exited their Hunters in the docking bay of the _Gymettion_. They missed their daughter fiercely, and now that the battle was over, they would be able to call Moya to the Delvian system in order to make sure that Hope was okay and that Chiana didn't have any problems watching after her. Oh, and there was also the matter of a certain morally bankrupt hynerian who still seemed hez-bent on corrupting their sweet, impressionable baby girl.

A deck officer saluted and said, "Sir, Ma'am, the admiral requests that you meet him in the conference room. Shall I escort you?"

John nodded, and he and Aeryn followed the officer to the ship's main conference chamber. The door hissed open, and Talyn and Jack turned to greet the Commanders Crichton & Sun, who were already being hailed down on the planet as the liberators of Delvia.

"Aeryn, John!" said Talyn. "We've done well here today. The planet is free; the delvians are adding their warrior-monks to our ranks; and High Command is still none the wiser."

Aeryn said, "It would seem that our fleet has also grown by two Command Carriers; but why did the first one surrender without a fight?"

John noticed that his father hadn't said anything; but he was staring uncomfortably at a chair on the opposite side of the table, one with its back to Aeryn and Crichton.

"Hello, John!" The chair spun around to reveal its occupant, a wrinkled, white face that John would never forget, not in a million years or cycles or whatever you wanted to use to measure time. "It's been nearly half a cycle... I trust that your family is well?"

Aeryn stared blankly. "Scorpius?!" She almost didn't recognize the half-sebacean/half-scarran; not without black leather covering him from head to toe and blinking lights adorning the sides of his head. "How can you be... _not_ in a coolant suit?"

"Oh, as usual, I owe it all to John Crichton!" Scorpius stood up and amicably placed his hands on John's shoulders, which only made Crichton's stony glare appear angrier. "And now that I've joined the alliance, we'll finally be fighting on the same side!"

In a voice that would have depressed a Prozac-deprived Droopy Dog, John deadpanned, "Hooray."

* * *

**Chapter 4: Relay Chase**

This ws one of the good days. Weekens had passed with the fleet jumping from system to system, harassing supply lanes and trade routes at every turn. While Moya stayed with the fleet, she enjoyed the best protection in known space, in spite of the frequent battle engagements; but when she and her crew set out on their own for one reason or another, things were much as they had been before the war. Sometimes it was dangerous; sometimes the leviathan felt so small that cabin fever could set in at any microt; but most of time, the members of Moya's motley family lived their lives, lives that weren't half bad considering their circumstances.

The fleet still didn't have nearly enough ships to conduct all-out war and occupy systems at the same time, so Admiral Lyczak had resorted to what he knew best: deceptive hit-and-run tactics. To that end, he had asked the most competent infiltration-and-strike unit in the rebel forces - Moya's crew, of course - to help disrupt communications in this part of space.

Moya was en route to the planet Shinula, a bustling commerce world that sat on the border of the Hynerian Empire. Shinula was a finance world, one where currency was banked, changed, and rapidly passed from one set of hands to another. Stock traders and megacorporations had their homes on Shinula, and on the planet's solitary moon there sat the largest subspace communications relay in charted space. It serviced half of the Hynerian Empire and much of Peacekeeper Space as well; to knock out the relay would blind and deafen the entire region for whole sectors around. It was imperative that they succeed in this mission, and soon, because the rebels couldn't stay off of the Peacekeepers' radar forever, but that was precisely where they needed to be in order to retake Hyneria.

With the planet still some solar days away, the crew was enjoying some down-time, but there was plenty of tension in the air. They all knew that when they arrived at the planet, the dren was going to hit the proverbial scrubbers.

* * *

"I wish my father could be here for this," said Aeryn. She and John were sitting together at the dining table in the center chamber, across from D'Argo and Chiana. To their right were Jool and Stark; to their left, Jack was trying not to laugh too hard as he watched Hope play with her grolak and mashed marjooles. Noranti had outdone herself, preparing this evening's feast. She knew as well as everybody else that they needed this right now, before they walked into the fire yet again.

Jack sighed. "Aeryn, you know that Talyn has to be ready to guide the fleet into Peacekeeper Space as soon as we're done on Shinula."

"Yes I do," said Aeryn, "but I had hoped that we could have our _whole_ family here for this - at least, everyone on this side of the wormhole. To have a holiday like the ones John always talked about. Like your Christmas."

"Ah, there'll be time for that after we end this damn guerilla war," said John. "I'll find another wormhole to Earth, and then we can have a good old-fashioned holiday with no shooting or critters. Just lots of turkey and football. I think your dad would like football - it's a universal constant."

"What's football?" asked Stark.

"Oh, _here_ we go..." grumbled D'Argo. The luxan let out a quiet "oof" when Chiana kicked his leg from under the table.

"All I know," said Jool, "is that our job would be far easier if we had merely asked Crais and Talyn to go instead of us, and level the relay station from orbit!"

"They wouldn't have half a chance," said Noranti. "Talyn is too well-known."

Crais had been all too aware of this, and had pointed the fact out to Admiral Lyczak. The gunship would never even get close enough to the Shinula system to jam communications, let alone fire upon the moon. A distress signal would have been sent to High Command as soon as Talyn was spotted approaching the system.

"Yeah, well I for one would sooner have Crais join us than Scorpy and Sikozu," said John. "But at least they're too busy down on the lower tiers playing chess, and..." he shuddered, " _other things_ , to come up here and spoil our appetites. Anyway, Wrinkles is right. We've got to do this. We're the only ones who could blend in, pull it off, and come away smelling like roses."

"That is not how we usually smell after a bombing," pointed out D'Argo. "Trust me."

"What's roses?" asked Stark.

"I don't know how you expect us to 'blend in,'" said Jool, "when this crew is so wanted by the Peacekeepers that it's made us _famous_ in the Uncharted Territories!"

" _In_ the UTs," said John, "but not in PK Space. And besides, didn't anyone ever tell you about the 'psychological block-out' theory? The more loud and obnoxious you are, the more people ignore you." John winked at D'Argo, the only other person in the room who had seen enough Mel Brooks movies to get that one. "Face it, Princess. When this crew parties, it gets loud _and_ obnoxious."

"Psychological block-out... I'm familiar with that..." Stark muttered to himself.

It was then that Hope gave a resounding "No!" and her fist came down onto the bowl in front of her. The dish of mashed marjooles flew end-over-end and its contents were sent squarely in Chiana's direction.

Chiana froze, her mouth open and emitting a quiet but high-pitched groan, while the gray mush covered her chest and dribbled down her midsection. She didn't say a word, but her tightly closed eyes and building temper dared someone to say something.

D'Argo couldn't help himself. "That is _definitely_ the child of a Sun and a Crichton."

Chiana slowly turned her head and glared at D'Argo.

"What?" he asked innocently. "It's not like gray isn't your color."

That was it. Joolushko burst out laughing, and taking the cue, so did Stark and Noranti. Aeryn could only stare, mouth agape, at D'Argo, but she noticed that John and Jack were barely holding their own mirth in check. That was also more than Chiana could take. She stood up and stormed out the room, followed by a suddenly confused and apologetic D'Argo.

"What... was all that?" asked Jack.

"Hope didn't want mashed marjooles," said Aeryn, as if that was all the explanation necessary.

"I thought she loved them," said Jack.

"Not without Rygel around to make the 'marjoole spaceship' noise," said John. "For some reason, he's the only one who can do it." With the fleet poised to move on Hynerian Space, Rygel had elected to remain aboard the Command Carrier, where he could ride in triumph to reclaim his throne. "I think Hope knows what she's doing, though," said John, kissing his daughter on the forehead and cleaning the gray gunk off of her. "I mean, this stuff is made from creepy little hynerian snail-things. You all know that, right?"

* * *

"Oh, come on! It was just a little accident!" D'Argo caught up with Chiana outside of her quarters.

"That's not it, D'Argo."

"Look, I didn't mean to say anything... I'm sorry, okay? How can I make it up to you?"

"It's not that either," said Chiana, facing the wall and wrapping her arms around herself.

D'Argo was shocked. Chiana was crying - for real. "Chi, come here," he said, turning her around and holding her in a gentle embrace. "You know you can tell me anything, right? What is it?"

"It-it's just that I see Crichton and Aeryn together with their kid, every day, and I start thinking about how we'll never have that." Chiana rested her head on D'Argo's shoulder, as tears ran down onto his red tunic. "I want us to have a child, D'Argo."

D'Argo ran a hand through Chiana's white hair and whispered, "You know, I never brought this up, since you never said anything before, but I've thought about it. We could find a geneticist who specializes in cross-species compatibility... I'm sure someone out there could help us. Shinula is a massive data-hub, right? We can search their information networks when we get to the planet. You'll see..."

"Oh, no," said Chiana softly.

"What is it?"

"I've gotten tears... a-a-and marjooles all over you."

* * *

Sikozu Shanu moved her king and castled the rook to its opposite side, never taking her eyes off of Scorpius. Ever since the hybrid had used Crichton's DNA to cure his sebacean heat-sensitivity, Scorpius seemed a like a different man. He had always exuded an air of superiority and intelligence; it was what had first attracted Sikozu to him. But now he carried himself with a certain calm - one might even say simple contentment. It was as if the pressing need for revenge was no longer quite so urgent - not because the scarran threat was any less than it was, but because Scorpius knew that all would fall into place in due time.

It had taken some getting used to, seeing Scorpius in a normal red-and-black Peacekeeper officer's uniform, with his white hair grown long and pulled into a tight queue. Appearance had never been as important to Sikozu, though, as ambition, bearing, and that wonderful intellect...

Scorpius moved his bishop three squares down the diagonal. "Tell me," he said, "what do you predict for the fleet as it pushes deeper into Peacekeeper territory? How many moves ahead can our admiral see, I wonder?"

Sikozu pondered the question. She didn't have to ponder her move; the bishop had been moved to draw out her knight, but that was an obvious trap. She advanced a pawn by two squares to threaten the bishop. "I believe... that even if we succeed at Shinula, it will only be a matter of time before High Command turns its full attention to our operations. Surely, taking the Hynerian Empire will not go unnoticed, and after that, we will have full-scale civil war."

"A war we cannot win," said Scorpius, "unless the admiral can complete his original objective." Scorpius withdrew his bishop.

Sikozu stared at the board. "I'm still not quite certain how that could possibly help us." After a while, she slid her rook one square to the left.

"It's simple," said Scorpius. "Place the leader in check, and the pieces can do nothing." He brought out his queen, placing it on the same rank as Sikozu's king. "Take Sebacea, and you take the Peacekeepers."

Sikozu merely blocked the queen with her knight. "It's impossible. As soon as Hyneria falls, High Command will call every available carrier to crush our forces! What do you hope to accomplish by joining Crichton's side?"

"Ah," said Scorpius. "Crichton... the once piece on the board who can go wherever he wants to, in the blink of an eye." Scorpius captured Sikozu's knight, placing his queen directly in front of her king - and with his bishop preventing the queen's capture, the game was over. "If we could move the fleet from Hyneria to Sebacea in an instant, well then... checkmate."

* * *

Four solar days later...

D'Argo and John were standing in a gaudy reception hall on the first floor of a hundred-story skyscraper in Shinula's capital city. The building was owned by a firm called Infrabiogentechsystems, Ltd., and was reputed to have access to one of the most comprehensive interplanetary data networks used by geneticists throughout the charted territories.

"D'Argo, you do know that the longer we're here, the more trouble we'll have getting out when we're done, right?"

"I know that, John, but this is very, very important."

"What? What is so important that it's got you so gung-ho and Pip all on-edge?"

"We want to try and find a hybrid-genetic engineer."

"Well that explains why we're hanging out in Trump Tower, but why would you...?" John's mouth fell open, and then rounded in an open, goofy grin. "You and Chi are trying to have a kid?"

D'Argo nodded. "I know this isn't the best time for this, but coming to this planet may be our only chance-"

"No, man, I understand. I totally get it. But, wow, you and Chiana, finally going to-"

Just then, the female Shinuli sitting at the receptionist's desk flashed an insincere smile and said, "Mr. Ka? You may go up to one of the access terminals now." The Shinuli were sebaceanoid in appearance, but with chalky, pink skin, hair, and even eyes - they were all perfectly monochromatic eyesores that Crichton had dubbed "Pepto people."

"Thank you," said D'Argo, heading towards a nearby level-riser. He and John boarded the lift and stood there for long microts, rocking on their heels, listening to terrible elevator music. Finally, the door opened. "72nd floor," said John. "Power tools, home appliances, and data terminals. Watch that step."

* * *

Later that day, John, D'Argo, and two delvians, Umyz and Kotah, sat in a transport pod headed for Shinula's moon. The two warrior-monks had accompanied Moya's crew to the planet, but typically remained in seclusion, keeping away from the others in order to meditate in peace. Having delvians aboard Moya again had brought back many memories for the crew; some were painful, but most recalled the good times, the things they loved about Zhaan.

"Are we all clear on the plan?" asked Crichton.

"I believe so," said Kotah, "but your shipmates suggested that another plan be used."

"What other plan?" asked Crichton.

"They did not specify," said Umyz, "so long as anyone but you came up with it."

D'Argo smiled, but didn't say anything when John shot a wild-eyed glare in his direction. "Look, it's all very simple. D'Argo, you and I go in and make a ruckus and scare everybody out of the station. Then the Blues Brothers here sneak in and do their ninja number on any security dumb enough to stick around. When all's quiet, we set Mr. Fallout here," at which point John held up a small thermonuclear fission bomb, "to go off in one arn; then we hide it well, and run like hell. Any questions?"

There were none. That was a good sign, especially since Crichton's plans were really just vague outlines anyway, and questioning them was typically pointless.

* * *

Crichton fired Winona and her nameless sister into the ceiling. "Howdy, y'all. I'm Doc Holiday, and this here is the Luxan Kid. We're here to rustle up some varmints, or barrin' that, have one hootenanny of a hoe-down. Yee-haw!" With a few more pulse blasts fired in random directions, the Shinuli took the hint. A crowd of frightened, pink-skinned aliens rushed for all the nearest exits.

"I'm not sure whether you scared them with your guns or your bizarre speech, but it worked," said D'Argo.

"Yup. Let's just find a place to set this puppy, so we can get out of here."

Just then, the delvian monks appeared. One of them was carrying the lifeless corpse of a security officer, as easily as one might carry a rag-doll. "This was the last one," Umyz said, "but we were not able to find him before he hit some sort of alarm."

"Alarm?" said John and D'Argo in unison.

That was when the blast door on the far side of the monitoring room opened up, and in tramped a three-motra-tall bipedal mechanoid, with twin-mounted pulse cannons and what appeared to be an assortment of grenade-launchers and flame-throwers on either arm.

John and D'Argo did something that startled the delvians: they screamed.

* * *

"Why didn't anybody tell us about RoboCop?!" yelled John, tearing down the hall at full sprint. D'Argo and the monks were close on his heels, while pulse blasts sent showers of sparks flying off of the walls behind them.

"I didn't even know people _had_ things like that!" D'Argo shouted back.

The hallway turned sharply and opened into an enormous room lined with fusion generators on all sides. A single, narrow catwalk stretched across the chasm. "Go, go!" shouted John to the delvians, shooing them ahead. "D'Argo, do you think that thing is smart enough to disarm a bomb?"

"I really have no idea," said D'Argo. The sound of heavy, metallic footsteps drew closer.

"Then cross your fingers," said John, switching on the bomb and pitching it off the catwalk.

"But... if I do that, then I won't be able to fire my Qualta-"  
"D'Argo! Never mind! Just run!"

"Uh-uh, just run, got it!"

John and D'Argo raced down the catwalk, just as the robot sentinel came crashing out of the hallway. Energy pulses demolished the catwalk's railings on either side of the fleeing pair, but when John heard the distinctive sound of a grenade rolling down the walkway, he shouted, " ** _Move it!_** " and threw D'Argo forward. The catwalk exploded behind them in a blossom of fiery orange, just as the two dove for the solid ground on the far side of the pit. The delvian monks were waiting for them, and they helped Crichton and D'Argo to their feet before taking off towards the nearest exit.

* * *

2,900 microts later...

D'Argo and Chiana stood on the terrace, looking out over a view of the Shinuli moon.

"I found the names and locations of six geneticists, one of which is on a planet just a few light-cycles from Hyneria."

Chiana's smile lit up her face. "I know it'll work, D'Argo - I just know it!"

"A vision?" he asked smugly. Chiana didn't even dignify that with a comeback. "Okay, not a vision. That's good. That means that you can see this." D'Argo raised a closed fist. "I've been meaning to tell you... that whatever happens with us, whether we can have a child some day or not, that won't change how I feel about us.

"I love you, Chiana, and when you're ready, I hope that you'll take this," and here, D'Argo opened his hand and revealed a ring, "and consent to be my wife." It may have been a human custom, but D'Argo got the feeling that a ring would look much better on Chiana than a luxan bonding brand.

Chiana's eyes widened and she held out her hand. "I'm consenting now, D'Argo. Yes - I'll be your wife!" She let D'Argo slide the ring onto her finger.

The luxan warrior and the young nebari woman consummated their betrothal with a passionate kiss, just as the moon above them lit up with a sudden, intense flash, and a mushroom cloud hovered over the spot where a relay station once stood.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Jagged Borders**

"Sir, we've just lost primary long-range communications. Moya's crew must have succeeded!" announced the comms tech on the bridge of the P.K.S. _Gymettion_.

Admiral Lyczak nodded to the tech before taking a deep breath and steeling his resolve. According to the disruptors he had placed on various enemy Command Carriers, there was a significant Peacekeeper presence in the Hynerian system. To make matters more difficult, the Hynerian Member Council had recently made it clear to the Peacekeepers that it would be in their interest to patrol the empire's lucrative shipping lanes, lest charrid pirates start filtering their wealth into the Scarran Empire. That meant that reinforcements would be mere parsecs away, if the gunship (who the Crichtons had taken to calling "Talyn Jr.") failed to jam short-range transmissions.

"Order the fleet to move into position," said Admiral Lyczak. This strike had to be swift and decisive, or else all their efforts would be blown right to hezmana.

The fleet's contingent of Peacekeeper Command Carriers formed the spearhead of the formation, flanked by the swift vessels of the Sebacean Royal Defense Force on one side, and the dangerous and powerful Luxan-Ilanic Confederation warships on the other. Above, delvian scout-ships swarmed between the carriers and cruisers, facilitating tight, short-range communications and readying themselves to observe the coming battlefield and transmit data to the tacticians. Below, a mix of interion, halosian, traskan, and tavloid fighters and transports flew in loose wings between larger host-ships added to the fleet by the halosians and the tarkan freedom-fighters. The halosian ships were intimidating enough, with their unconventional shapes and their weapons that reacted so strangely to Peacekeeper defense shields; but the tarkan ships were terror-inspiring works of art, battleships worked into insectoid shapes with viewports that looked like great eyes, and weapons embankments placed on the ends of antennae.

The fleet held its position steady, waiting just over a light-cycle from the edge of the Hynerian system. "All ships, full hetch speed forward!" commanded the admiral from the bridge of his flagship. "With this battle, we move into Peacekeeper Space and make our presence known. With this battle, the war truly begins."

* * *

"Another Command Carrier has just entered the system," said Rygel glumly. "That makes six full carriers... even when Bishan first took my throne, the Peacekeepers never dared to place so many ships here!"

Crais considered their present situation. The fleet coming into the system was still three times the strength of the Peacekeepers holding Hyneria, but when the battle came, the losses would be heavy. Peacekeepers did not foolishly fight to the death like scarrans did, but they did not retreat before a superior attacking force either. No, they would stay and fight; and they would inflict heavy casualties on the Allies.

"What of the Hynerian Imperial Navy?" asked Crais.

"They rest on the far side of the planet, under the command of my loyal supporter, General Filyn," said Rygel. "She can do nothing until my cousin is slain and my throne is reclaimed, but once that happens, she will be free to add her forces to our Alliance." Rygel gave a smug chuckle. Soon, yes, very soon, he would be dominar again.

"What's this?" said Crais suddenly, interrupting Rygel's dreams of triumph. "Talyn has detected a large, disorganized fleet on the edge of the system, moving on the Peacekeepers at attack speed!"

"Let me see those readings," said Rygel. He examined the tactical display, and then gasped aloud. "It's the charrids... and they have a scarran Dreadnaught!"

* * *

"Sir, we've received a communiqué from Commodore Crais. The Hynerian system has come under attack by charrid forces, and they are evenly matched by six Command Carriers."

"Six?" echoed Talyn. "That many assembled carriers... I wonder what they were anticipating..." The admiral's voice trailed off. Then, he snapped back to the present and said, "Helm, maintain course and speed. Tactical, change of plans. Tell the fleet to engage only scarran and charrid vessels upon entering the system. We may be able to turn this to our advantage."

"Sir," said the tactical officer, "might it not be wiser to hold back and let the two armadas damage one another first?"

"Not while there's a chance that we can turn even one of those carriers to our cause," said the admiral, "and if we can hurt scarrans and their allies in the process, so much the better."

"But six carriers, Sir... we could replace the senior staff of two, perhaps three, but with six, there must also be-"

"An admiral of High Command on board one of them; yes, I know. All the more reason we must link up with them immediately. I must know who we're dealing with." Talyn had been away from Sebacea for seven cycles, but the council that formed Peacekeeper High Command was a conservative lot, and political boundaries rarely shifted. Soon, the admiral would know whether an old friend or dire foe commanded the forces protecting the Hynerian Empire.

* * *

The leviathan Talyn approached Hyneria on a stealth trajectory and set down on a deserted landing pad in the capital city of Gwyn Rygelom, "Jewel of Rygel." For the past hundred and forty cycles, its name had been officially changed to Kor Bishanom, "Crown of Bishan," but Rygel XVI only knew this city by the name his honored ancestor, Rygel the Great, had given it. As the hynerian royal piloted his throne-sled down Talyn's ramp, he rose high of the ground so that he might gaze upon his city. It was truly a splendid sight: high towers and twisting spires ascended into the skyline, glittering like precious stones. Marble streets ran between the buildings, resting on arched buttresses that were in turn supported by high columns which ran down to the bottoms of salty marshes, motras beneath the city. "At last," said Rygel, blinking back tears, "I'm home."

Crais exited Talyn next, followed by a small unit of sebacean and delvian soldiers. "We must hurry," he said. "Talyn's size has nearly doubled since he last touched down on a planet, and he is unused to his own weight. I will try to keep him calm, but if he grows nervous, he may reveal our presence here too soon."

"Very well." Rygel gave a regal nod to Crais and raised his hand at the soldiers. "We go now to my palace, to the royal house built over 3,000 cycles ago by Rygel IX. We go to correct a grave injustice, to cleanse this house of a pretender to Hyneria's throne! All of you, follow me, for my vengeance at last is at hand!"

Crais only rolled his eyes at the maniacal chuckle that issued from Rygel's frog-like lips. _Obviously, the hynerian plans on orating his cousin to death_ , he thought. Rygel spun his throne-sled around and took off towards the city streets; and Crais gave the order for his men to follow.

* * *

"By Cholok," said the _Gymettion's_ bridge tactician as the fleet entered the system, "they really do have a Dreadnaught. These cannot be simple pirates!"

"No," said Admiral Lyczak, "but neither is it a full invasion force." What could the scarrans possibly hope to accomplish by this? The question was a puzzling one. "Comms, hail the lead Command Carrier."

The comms tech activated the laser-pulse signal and eventually the front viewscreen flashed to the bridge of another carrier. Standing at command was portly man with graying hair, a perpetual sneer on his lips... and an admiral's uniform. Talyn recognized him immediately: Admiral Ikal Huk, reputed to be the among most conservative members of the admiralty - which in the Peacekeepers, meant an endearing blend of strict adherence to regulations, swift and creative punishment, unabashed bigotry directed at other species, and indiscriminate deployment of overwhelming, violent force. _So this_ , thought Talyn, _is what Jack means by "Murphy's Law."_

"Talyn?" said Admiral Huk, gazing at the screen in surprise. "Is it really you, you old war-drannit?"

"It is, Ikal, and from the looks of things, I've arrived just in time." Talyn kept his voice even and emotionless. "When this is over, I'd like to ask you some questions. I've been away from Sebacea for nearly seven cycles, and-"

Huk sneered. "Heh, the council had nearly given you up for lost. Thought the nebari finally got you. They were ready to promote a commandant to take your place."

"Is that so...? Well, as you can see, I'm still quite alive, but unfortunately, I know very little about the political situation on the homeworld. So once we've routed this pathetic little charrid armada, we must-"

The odious admiral interrupted Talyn once again with a dismissive, annoying laugh. "Heh-heh, sure, sure, I'll bring you up to speed. We can have a drink down on the planet. The frogs may not do much well, but they understand food and drink, I'll give them that." When Talyn said nothing, Ikal Huk went on. "But I have to ask, why is your battle-group joined up with such a ragtag fleet of lesser warships? I could swear I saw luxan vessels among your own – _luxan_! What could possibly be going on in the Uncharted Territories to warrant such a thing?"

"I'll tell you all about it over that drink," said Talyn. "For now, I suggest we see if the charrids aren't reconsidering their plan of attack."

* * *

The strike team didn't have much work to do. The appearance of the charrid ships in the Hynerian system had sparked an immediate evacuation. Many hynerians took refuge in the swamps and saltwater lakes beneath the city, while wealthier residents fled the area altogether in favor of seaside and undersea villas. Rygel only hoped that his cousin hadn't been so cowardly as to abandon the palace; that would make finding him and killing him more difficult.

Whenever the party encountered guards or police, they invariably recognized the royal countenance of Rygel XVI - and who wouldn't know the features of a son of the house of Rygel at first glance? With the terrible job Bishan had been doing running the empire, the people had long wished for the return of their old sovereign; and so, at the very sight of Rygel, the palace guards would drop their weapons and bow low to the ground. Rygel would then graciously command them to rise and say, "Loyal subjects, all will be forgiven if you but take your arms back up and follow me!" And so, as he hovered through his old palace (pausing here and there to admire a bauble or tapestry), his company of soldiers steadily grew in size.

Finally, they came to a great set of double-doors, the entryway to the Great Hall of the Dominar. With a word from Crais, a sebacean and a delvian stepped forward and gave the doors a mighty shove. They flew inward, and Rygel rushed ahead into the throne room.

The hall was enormous, with high-vaulted ceilings covered in elegant paintings. Widows made from bubbles of rainbow-colored glass caused light to shift about the room in uneven patterns. To the soldiers and even Bialar Crais, the scene was breathtaking. To Rygel, though, his throne-room's majesty and splendor went unnoticed. He was staring at the room's sole occupant, the hynerian seated on _his_ throne, wearing _his_ royal robes, carrying _his_ imperial seal. Bishan.

"Have you gone mad, cousin?" asked Rygel. "Or do you merely accept your fate, sitting in here alone, waiting for the hand that will come and slay you?"

"Rygel," sneered Bishan, "you were swamp-scum before, but now you bring sebaceans to do your dirty work?"

"You sold me out to the Peacekeepers!" thundered Rygel.

"Yes, but _I_ was original about it. Is this best you can do?"

Rygel looked at the soldiers assembled behind him. A word, a flick of his wrist, and they could snuff out his cousin's very existence. "No," said Rygel. "I intend to destroy you myself." Rygel lowered his throne-sled to the floor and stepped onto his own two feet, daring Bishan to do the same.

The other hynerian slid off the throne, and waddled to the middle of the room where Rygel waited. "You are four-hundred cycles old, cousin!" taunted Bishan. "I could snap you in half!"

"You really are mad," said Rygel. "It was high time somebody beat some sense into you - your mother never could." Rygel sprang forward and socked Bishan in the face. The younger hynerian retaliated by grabbing for Rygel's throat, but he was too fast for Bishan. Rygel's head came forward and there was an ear-splitting crack as Rygel's skull came into contact with Bishan's, leaving a trickle of blood running down the usurper's forehead.

Bishan growled in anger and reached into the sleeves of his cloak, drawing small knife. "Still a doddering, old fool!" he sneered, slashing left and right. Rygel fell back onto his heels, even as Bishan continued to taunt him. "Have you learned nothing in one-hundred-and-forty cycles?"

Very calmly, Rygel said, "Over one-hundred-and-thirty cycles being tortured on the _Zelbinion_ and imprisoned on Moya have taught me the courage to stand up to cowards like you... and six cycles of listening to John Crichton babble nonsense about his homeworld have taught me something even more valuable: only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight!" Rygel reached into the sleeves of his own robes and drew out his pulse pistol. Bishan's eyes went wide as Rygel fired a single, clean shot into his enemy's chest. The hynerian dropped his knife and coughed, spewing blood onto the floor. Then, he faltered, and he fell.

Rygel, without so much as another word, picked up Bishan's knife and proceeded to part his cousin's head from the rest of him.

* * *

"I say again, you face a vastly superior force. You are outnumbered and cannot win. Power down your weapons and shields, and surrender, and your lives will be spared." The message repeated itself over the comms systems of the scarran Dreadnought. War Minister Ahkna paced to and fro on the bridge, waiting. "I don't understand," she said to nobody in particular. "First, communications fall apart all over this region of space, then they respond to our appearance in the Hynerian system with unheard-of efficiency! It doesn't make sense!"

"Ma'am," said a long-faced scarran pilot, "your orders?"

Ahkna turned to the comms tech. "Any word from our Stryker in the Maljin Cluster?" Before entering the system, the scarran war minister had dispatched a single, swift scout-ship to the Maljin black hole cluster, deep in Hynerian Empire territory. It was reputed to be a nexus of wormhole activity.

The kalish comms-operator shook her head. "We have no long-range communications, and a signal from the planet is jamming all short-range transmissions."

Ahkna hissed in anger and slammed a fist on the console. "We have lingered here long enough - our purpose is served, and the distraction is complete." Her deception had worked too well, it seemed, with every Peacekeeper ship in the whole damned empire converging on Hyneria! "If the Stryker fails to return, see that the captain's entire clan is executed!" she shouted to a nearby honor-guard. To the pilot, she ordered, "Turn the ship around and prepare to retreat - and since we can't transmit orders, hope the charrid captains are smart enough to follow us!"

* * *

"They're breaking off," said Admiral Huk. "Do you think it's worth chasing them down?"

Talyn shook his head. "I don't think they were ever here to fight..."

Huk looked at Admiral Lyczak as if he had gone mad. "Why would scarrans and charrids go anywhere otherwise?"

"No matter," said Talyn. "We have much more important matters to discuss."

"Indeed we do," said Admiral Huk slyly, "such as where you've been for so long."

"You know that. Nebari Space." Even as spoke those words, Talyn got a strange feeling from Admiral Ikal Huk; and he hadn't risen to his position as head of Peacekeeper Intelligence by ignoring his instincts. Every fiber of Talyn's being was warning him, _he knows_. Six full carriers waiting in the Hynerian system, even as sector-wide communications go down to sabotage - the charrids had arrived afterward and had left just as quickly, as puzzling to Admiral Huk as it had been to Admiral Lyczak – _he's been waiting for us_ , Talyn realized.

"Yes. Nebari Space. What do you say we head planetside and have that drink?"

"I say... comms, cut this channel." The image on the viewscreen winked out. "All power to forward frag cannons. Relay orders to execute battle-plan zero-zero-seven-dekka."

"Sir," said a comms tech, "the flagship is sending a broad-band, high-intensity transmission... to Sebacea!" Without a regional subspace relay to accelerate the signal, realtime transmissions were impossible, but the signal would eventually be picked up at its destination, anywhere from a handful of solar days to more than a weeken later.

Peacekeeper High Command was as good as warned.

"Destroy that ship," said Admiral Lyczak, "and disable the other carriers. The war is well and truly begun."

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Hop, a Skip, and a Warp**

Moya came out of StarBurst on the edge of the Hynerian system. She sailed past clouds of debris and flash-frozen vapors, charred wrecks of fighters and destroyers. At least two of the heaviest luxan cruisers had been reduced to rubble; and the dead hulks of no less than eight command carriers floated silently in the vacuum of space.

From Moya's command, Aeryn and John surveyed the scene displayed on the tactical board. The battle had been massive; the casualties, likely uncountable. Such was the price of freedom, and the Alliance had begun to pay its debts.

"Is that the _Gymettion_?" asked Aeryn, indicating the visual display.

John nodded. "Hull intact... engines operative... but the bridge took a direct hit from a frag cannon."

Aeryn said nothing, showed no emotion, but John knew that she was being eaten up inside. "It's okay," he whispered, pulling Aeryn to him and letting her head fall to his shoulder. "Let it out. We're here for you."

It was silly, Aeryn thought, to cry on someone's shoulder. She didn't even know if her father was alive or dead. But she had just gotten him back so _frelling_ soon, and he might have been taken again, just as quickly. And so, she leaned on the man she had come to love more than anything in the universe, and she wept.

* * *

D'Argo landed the transport pod in the carrier's docking bay and powered down the engines. The ramp lowered, and John, Aeryn, Jack, and Chiana all disembarked ahead of D'Argo. The docking bay was undamaged, but Prowlers and Marauders in dire need of repair filled the area. Techs tended to the ships while medics looked to the pilots. Nobody gave the new arrivals a second glance.

Aeryn stopped a med-tech who didn't appear to be doing anything too critical and asked, "Where is Admiral Lyczak?"

The medic recognized Aeryn Sun immediately. "Your father's in medical bay 9. Shall I escort you, Commander?"

"No, I know where it is," said Aeryn. She paused and asked, "How is he?"

"Injured, but not critically. A broken arm, couple of bruised ribs, some nasty burns. He's conscious, so it should be okay to visit him."

"Thank you." Aeryn marched towards medical, while her friends followed cautiously behind.

They came to bay 9, where another tech directed them to a private room on the end of the hall. Aeryn waved her hand in front of the sensor panel and the door hissed open. "Father?"

Talyn Lyczak was sitting on the examination table, shirtless, but with his torso and left arm wrapped in bandages. Patches of salve for the burns covered his skin. "Aeryn, everyone, come in! You don't have to look at me like that - I'm not dead _yet_."

"I don't think you can cut it much closer," said John. "Believe me, I know."

"I believe you do," said Talyn.

"How are you feeling?" asked Jack.

"Honestly? Like I was standing on the bridge when it took a hit from a frag blast. It's not that bad, really; we noticed their weapons targeting the bridge in time, and evacuated that part of the ship."

"But you were the last one out the door, weren't you?" asked Jack.

Talyn nodded. "A commander's first duty is to his subordinates."

"What happened out there?" asked D'Argo. "It looks like the luxan and Peacekeeper battle groups took massive casualties."

"They were waiting for us," said Talyn grimly. "It wasn't until I checked the back-logs that I realized one of my disruptors failed to make his last report. He must have been captured and interrogated somehow." Talyn went on to describe the appearance of the charrid fleet and its hasty retreat; how he turned on the Peacekeeper forces and boxed them in between the planet and the Hynerian Navy; and of the battle that followed. "I still cannot figure out why the scarrans would make a feint at the Hynerian Empire; but if they've attacked anywhere else, we can't know without long-range comms."

"At least we pulled that off," said John. "Dropped a little atomic present on the Shinuli relay station. So I guess that means that High Command is still in the dark."

"I wish that were the case," said Talyn. "One of those carriers belonged to Admiral Ikal Huk, a member of High Command. His ship was equipped with a transmitter capable of sending a signal powerful enough to reach Sebacea. Realtime communication is impossible without the booster relay, but a supspace signal still travels at a speed of about hetch forty. In six solar days, High Command will know that I've betrayed them. They'll probably declare me irreversibly contaminated, and recall every ship in Peacekeeper Space to blockade the homeworld."

"Is that it?" asked Chiana. "We frelled up? No chance of winning the war?"

Talyn snorted and gave a hollow laugh. "If you can tell me some way to beat that signal to the Sebacean system, or sneak past a blockade and take one of the most heavily-defended planets in all of known space... I'd love to hear it." He rolled back and lay down on the table.

Everybody else turned and looked at John Crichton.

"Oh, no," said John. "Not a chance."

* * *

It was Aeryn's eyes that had done it. She didn't like wormholes any more than he did. She knew how dangerous they were, how much pain they had caused them both. She didn't want to, couldn't bring herself to ask him aloud. But John had seen the plea in her eyes. That was why he called everyone to the conference room. Rygel and Crais had come up from the planet, along with the dominar's generals and ministers. The commanders of the various battle-groups that made up the fleet were assembled. The crew of Moya was there as well. All were present, with the exception of Admiral Lyczak, who still rested in medical.

"Before we begin," said Crichton, "I need to know something. How fast can the battle-damage to the fleet's capital ships be repaired? As in, if they had to assault a planet five solar days from now, could they be ready?"

Dissident grumbles issued from the fleet captains. "We already have techs working twenty-five arns a day," said Captain Braca. "If we had two weekens, perhaps, but five solar days?"

"The Imperial Navy has sustained relatively little damage," said General Filyn. "We can have our techs, and engineers from the planet, assist you."

"Indeed," said Dominar Rygel, "and engineers can be summoned from nearby systems, as well. You'll have your fleet battle-worthy, Crichton."

"Pardon my asking, but, for what?" asked an ilanic general. "What planet are we to attack in five days? I know of no key system so close to Hyneria."

"We're going to attack _the_ key system," said John. "In five days, I am going to transport this entire fleet to Sebacea, through a wormhole."

Shouts of surprise took over the conference chamber. "Is that possible?" "I thought wormholes were only theoretical..." "Who ever heard of such a thing?" "Can it really be done?"

"Of course it can be done," said an authoritative voice. Scorpius stood, and everyone in the room fell silent. "Wormholes are the ultimate technology. They could even be a weapon... powerful enough to destroy any ship... _any planet_."

Crichton knew what was coming. He knew before it happened that at least half of the senior officers in the room would soon be demanding either wormhole weapons, or Crichton's head. "Grasshopper, front and center!" he commanded, before anybody could say a word.

"What does that even mean, 'grass-hopper?'" hissed Sikozu.

" _Kung-Fu_ ," said John. "Kwai-Chang Caine was Grashopper. His teacher called him that. It means 'humble student.' Now, Scorpy, let me ask you something: you hate the scarrans, right?"

"You know the answer to that, John. Better, perhaps, than anybody else in this room."

"Okay... and you want to see the scarrans dead or defeated or somehow neutralized, right?"

"Of course."

"And for that to happen, there have to be Peacekeepers to oppose them... right or wrong?"

Scorpius considered his answer for a moment. "At the moment... yes, only the Peacekeepers stand in the way of scarran aggression."

"So... if you want things to stay that way... **_what frelling good would it do to nuke Sebacea with a wormhole weapon?!_** I will never, _ever_ make a planet-killing weapon, or allow one to be made, so long as it is in my power to stop it. Sit down, Scorp."

To John's surprise, Scorpius did so, but not without sneering and letting out a low-pitched, distinctively scarran-sounding growl.

"The thing that each and every one of you here has to realize," continued John, "is that wormhole _travel_ can be even more dangerous than a wormhole _weapon_. If you come out in the past, you can change the timeline. If you take a wrong turn, you end up in some other quantum reality. If you completely frell up navigating the wormhole, you can destroy all possible universes and end existence as we know it. Oh, and if your ship nicks the subspace wall, every cell of organic matter on board will liquefy like margaritas in a cuisinart."

"And you plan on sending the whole fleet through one of these things?" shouted one of the Sebacean Royal Fleet captains.

"No... I plan on _leading_ the fleet through the wormhole. If you follow Moya, you'll be fine. We'll rig up a signal beacon so nobody gets lost, and if everybody sticks close together, we'll come out in the Sebacean system in less than fifteen microts."

"And what does Admiral Lyczak think about this plan?" asked Captain Braca.

"Why don't you ask him?" said Aeryn, pointing to the door.

"Damn," said John, "that guy knows how to time an entrance."

Talyn was standing on his own two feet again, but if the entourage of fussing med-techs was any indication, he wasn't quite back up to fighting form. "I have already discussed this idea with Commander Crichton, and he believes that he can safely guide the fleet through a wormhole. However, the danger is still present and very real, and any commanders who do not wish to take their battle-groups through with the fleet may leave the Alliance at this time."

In the end, the halosians decided to withdraw their capital ships, but all the other captains committed to the attack on Sebacea. When that was decided, John broke up the meeting and left the commanders to draw up their battle-plans. Taking Rygel aside, he said, "In order to do this, I'm going to need a pretty specific set of components... if I get you a list, can you have everything here in three days?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" blustered Rygel. "I am the Dominar of the Hynerian Empire, restored to power! I can have anything I desire here in three arns!"

"I'll hold you to that," said John, handing Rygel a datapad. "We are going to need a hell of a lot of partanium..."

* * *

The _Farscape_ module had grown in size over the past cycle and a half, slowly but steadily as John added modification after special modification. The original craft still formed the cockpit, which was just as cramped and uncomfortable as it had always been, but it now sat upon a larger framework that had been cobbled together from a powerful set of plasma-ion boosters, a high-grade hetch 9 drive, and a fearsome array of pulse cannons and missile launchers. As the rebels had moved through the Uncharted Territores and collected allies, John had managed to add other systems to his ship, like a luxan cloaking device and a tarkan defense shield. Now, five solar days after the battle at Hyneria, the _Farscape One_ sported a sleek, new option: a phase stabilizer that further added to the modified module's unwieldy bulk.

"Why are you being such a... fekik?" asked Aeryn.

"Because I'm about to open the mother of all wormholes, and we don't know how pissed that's going to make Einstein and his pals. I'm flying solo, and that's final."

"Fine," said Aeryn, "just go then. At least you didn't die of frelling radiation poisoning this time!"

Ouch. John leapt off the side of his module and looked Aeryn square in the eye. Fishing around in the pocket of his duster, he pulled out the pair of sunglasses that he had brought from Earth, slapped them on his face, and shot Aeryn a smile worthy of Tom Cruise. "This is risky business, baby, but sometimes you've just gotta say, 'what the frell.'"

Aeryn lowered her voice to that husky tone that always made John shiver and whispered, "I love it when speak 'Human'. "

John and Aeryn kissed slowly, letting the microts drag on while they savored each other... finally, John broke away. "I've got to do this. Kiss Hope for me, and keep our quarters warm." Aeryn nodded silently and shut her eyes as John climbed into his module. Crichton saluted and winked at her before closing the canopy.

Aeryn smiled, but wiped a tear from her eye. She had a strange feeling about this... she hadn't felt like this since she had held John in her arms and watched him die at Dam-Ba-Da. "Come back to me, John Crichton," she whispered.

* * *

A few thousand metras from the edge of the Hynerian system, space was quiet. The Alliance Fleet stood still in a long, convoy formation. No engines flashed, no fighters or couriers shuttled between the ships. A single, tiny pod came to life at the head of the convoy, about a metra ahead of the _Gymettion_. It looped into a lazy circle, again and again, gaining speed in dizzying fashion. A trail of blue light eventually formed in the wake of the ship, taking the shape of a ring in space.

"That's it," said John Crichton, "come to papa..."

The stabilizer then cycled into its final phase, and with a burst of blue light and cosmic radiation, a wormhole flared into existence. Its diameter was huge; it could easily swallow a whole armada of Command Carriers - which was pretty much what Crichton intended it to do.

"That's no moon," said John, whistling in awe at the sight of his own handiwork, "that's a space station!" He opened his comms and routed the signal through Moya's system. "Everybody, hold tight together, and follow the signal coming from the leviathan." John then brought the module alongside Moya, and together, the two ships passed through the event horizon of the wormhole. The Peacekeeper Command Carriers lumbered behind, followed by the Sebacean Breakaway Colonies forces, the fleet from the Luxan-Ilanic Confederation, various ships donated by planets from other territories, and finally, the Hynerian Imperial Navy.

Crichton closed his eyes and let his instincts take over. The planet Sebacea, seat of power for the Peacekeepers, the world that controlled a vast portion of known space in the galaxy... John listened to the song of the wormhole, smelled the scent of the spacetime signatures, and let his wormhole-attuned spider-sense guide his hands. Then realspace convulsed in on itself and tore open somewhere else. The module blasted out of the mouth of the wormhole, followed by Moya, the Command Carriers, and the rest of the fleet.

"John," said Jack from Moya's command, "are you all right, Son?"  
"Yeah, Dad, I'm okay. How's everybody on Moya?"

"We're just fine," said Aeryn.

"Daddy!" said Hope. The sound of his daughter's voice over the comms made John smile. She was reaching that age where it seemed that she picked up new words every day; in another couple of monens, she'd be talking like her chatterbox of a father, but probably in four or five different languages.

"I'm going to go check out the fleet's rear flank," said John, "and make sure the hynerians came through okay. I'll see you in another half an arn."

"Don't take too long," said Aeryn.

"I won't." John turned the _Farscape_ around and flew back along the convoy. The ships appeared to be in pretty good shape, considering the pounding they had taken at Hyneria. None of them were flying out of control or sailing dead, so John assumed that he hadn't gone and turned the rebels into goo. He toggled the comms to different frequencies, and heard the various fleet captains checking in with Admiral Lyczak's carrier. That was a good sign, Crichton decided.

He came to the rear of the fleet procession and saw the hynerian vessels sailing smoothly out of the wormhole. So far, so good. When the last ship cleared the event horizon, John sat back in the pilot's seat and let out a breath of relief. "We made it," he said to nobody in particular. _Hopefully, we made it in the present time_ , John thought, but didn't dare to say so aloud. No need to tempt Fate.

Then, rattlers. John's spider-sense went into overdrive, and the mouth of the wormhole gaped at twisted, reaching for the module like the hand of an angry giant.

"Woah... Aeryn! Dad! Pilot... anybody!" It was too late for him, though. The wormhole swallowed him.

Just before his comms died, John heard Aeryn's voice screaming his name.

* * *

"Ow..." John woke up with a splitting headache. Something was wrong. He was lying on his side and couldn't move his body. "Wha'th'frell?" he slurred; it felt like half of his face had been injected with novocaine. He couldn't feel his left arm or his left leg; half of him was completely numb.

John experimentally moved his right arm and his right leg. They seemed to work okay. He propped himself up on his arm and tried to look around. The muscles in his neck that still worked allowed John to swing his head around. He was on the floor of a bedroom, one decorated in a very Earth-like style. There weren't any doors or windows, though.

It took some effort with one leg useless, but John eventually managed to stand and get a good look at his surroundings. A black, rectangular monolith stood against one wall in the room, and standing in front of it was a man in an armored space-suit, breathing heavily. When John realized where he was, the right half of his face (since that was all that worked) curled into a joyless smile, and John gave a hollow laugh. "Didn't I see this in a Stanley Kubrick movie?" It took some practice to speak without slurring or drooling, but he managed. "Hey, let me guess: you're Dave, and HAL 9000 just shot you out an airlock."

The man in the space-suit turned to John. The faceplate was tinted, and Crichton couldn't see through it, but he heard the man speak. "Not exactly, John Crichton. Though, I admit, your homeworld does have a certain flare for the dramatic that I like very much." He removed the helmet, and John saw...

"A tarkan honor guard?" If this was a joke, Crichton didn't get it.

"At one time. Another time, you saw me in this form." The face shifted to the vulture-like visage of a halosian that John recognized as an ambassador he had negotiated with a couple of monens ago, before the halosians joined the Alliance. "...And this form." The halosian's face melted away along with the space-suit, revealing the aged delvian who had sold them the map-fibers in the Uncharted Territories. "I have followed you for some time. But perhaps you know me best... like this!" And that is when Maldis resumed the shape of an older, humanoid male that Crichton recognized right away.

"Maldis? Jesus, where's Buffy the Vampire Slayer when you really need her..."

"Cancelled two years ago, I'm afraid," said Malids. "They killed off Spike, you know."

"I hate it when villains know what I'm talking about," groaned Crichton.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Crowded Space**

"I repeat," said John, "because it bears repeating: _what- the- frell?_ "

Maldis shook his head and made a tsking noise. "You will never, ever make a planet-killing weapon... what a waste! Think of the force for carnage and destruction you could be in the universe, if only you _applied_ all that wonderful knowledge in your head!"

"I said it to Scorpy, and I said it to frelling Einstein... I won't cross that line."

"You did once before," said Maldis. "You built a displacement engine... destroyed a Dreadnaught."

"You've got the wrong guy," said John. "I wasn't even there."

"Let me guess: it wasn't you, it was the one-armed man." Maldis ran his eyes down John's form and said, "Then again, that could very well describe _you_."

"What are talking ab-?" Then John looked down at himself. The entire left side of his body, the part that he couldn't feel, was _transparent_. Half of him was almost invisible. "Wha... what did you do to me, Dracula?"

"Oh, it wasn't me," said Maldis. "You're just not all here. Not a whole man anymore, are you?"

Crichton swallowed. This wasn't normal, he didn't know what was going on, and stuff like this sure as hell didn't happen for no reason. "Where am I?"

"At the moment? Drifting in space in your little, white death-pod. That's where your physical body is, anyway. Your spirit, on the other hand... well, at least _some_ of it is here with me."

It was that old game again - and this time, Zhaan wasn't around to solve the problem by making Maldis corporeal. Crichton fell to the ground and stared blankly at the wall.

"What I wonder," said Maldis, "is why your spirit is so... incomplete right now. Surely, it cannot be your bond with Aeryn Sun... though, that _is_ quite strong. When you don't come back, I wonder what she'll do; how many she'll kill. It should be interesting to watch... or perhaps, she'll need a nudge in the right direction."

"You... you bastard," said John, trying to stand again but stumbling in the process. "Leave... my family... out of this."

"Useless," sneered Maldis. "You're no fun like this! Why, it's almost as if half of your soul has crossed... over... oh-ho!" The sorcerer's eyes lit up and a devilish smile filled his face. "So that's what happened! You were twinned, and your twin was killed!" He started pacing back and forth, never taking his eyes off of Crichton. "You're no good to me like this, you know. I need the part of you that was willing to kill, the part that built that magnificent weapon. But to get at that part, I'd need a gateway to the other side. It is a puzzle, but I do love a challenge..."

* * *

 ** _"John!"_** Aeryn's voice rang over the comms throughout Moya.

D'Argo was in the maintenance bay when he heard the scream. "What happened?"

"It was John's module!" shouted Jack. "It flew out of control and rammed the wall of the wormhole. Now he's just drifting back there!"

"Pilot, turn Moya around," ordered Aeryn. "Bring him aboard, _now_!"

"We're already on our way, Commander Sun."

In the galley, there was stunned silence. Jool and Chiana were obviously worried, but Stark was positively frantic. "Something's wrong, not right, not right at all! There's life and death and unity and evil!"

"Will you shut up?" shrieked Jool. "You're driving us all mad!"

"Mad, angry; or mad, insane?" asked Stark.

"Both!" said Chiana and Jool together.

"Oh. Furious. Lunatic. Livid. Mental. Unhinged-" Stark froze, mid-tirade. "Un... conscious..." he mumbled, just before he slumped to the floor.

* * *

"Welcome, Stykera!" said Maldis, throwing his arms out wide. "I have need of your talents."

"Evil," mumbled Stark. "You are a great evil!"

"We all have hobbies," said Maldis.

Then Stark noticed John. "Crichton! What happened to you? Why are you, um, partially transparent?"

"Oh, you know. My soul's not completely intact. The usual."

"No, of course it isn't," mused Stark. "I crossed part of you over myself."

"So, Hannibal Lecter's twinning deal-y doesn't just split bodies, it splits souls too?" John remembered the zombies eating the remains of the leviathan... they had been twinned so often that their brains, along with the rest of their body chemistry, had degenerated. The same could have been said for whatever remained of their spiritual spark of humanity... or _sebaceanity_ , as the case might be.

"Whatever happened is unimportant," said Maldis. "The point is, I require you here. All of you. And for that, I need the banik Stykera." Maldis disappeared in a whiff of red smoke and reappeared behind Stark. He grasped the mask and tore it off. Then, Maldis reached his hand into the glowing, golden stream of energy; and Stark screamed in agony.

"Get the frell off of him!" roared Crichton. John somehow found the strength to rise to his feet and rush at Maldis, but the dark spirit was still of an incorporeal nature. John collided into Stark instead, fell to the ground with an "oof!", and rolled over to look up at... himself. Or at least, another John Crichton, this one with the right side of his body as the see-through part.

"What just happened?" asked the new arrival.

"You're me," said John. "The me who died on Talyn."

"That's the last thing I remember," said Talyn-John. "I was in Aeryn's arms, and I died happy. Then Stark helped me cross to... I forget where, but it was good."

"How is this possible?" asked Moya-John. "You died. Dead people don't just come back."

"Not normally," said Maldis, "but John Crichton is also very much alive. A great deal of you remained in the physical world. It was actually quite easy to strengthen the link and pull your better half back."

"Who said he was better?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"Okay, let's get one thing straight here, bucko," said Moya-John. "That's my body back there... wherever it is... and it's my turn. You had your shot, and it's my life now."

"What about Aeryn?" asked Talyn-John. "You know me - hell, I'm you - so you know how much I love her. Is she okay? Did everything work out okay between you two?"

"It worked out," said Moya-John, "eventually. We got married a couple of cycles ago. We've got a daughter. Hope Leslie. She's a little over a cycle and a half old." _Oh, and she might actually be your daughter._ Moya-John couldn't bring himself to say that.

"This is all very touching," said Maldis, "but now it's time to put you back together. I need you whole!"

"Wait, wait, just a minute there, Dracula," said Talyn-John.

"Too late," said Moya-John. "I already used that one."

"Damn. Anyway, I've kind of been out of the loop for a while. You need us for what? What's happening on the outside?"

Maldis gave a superior grin and both Johns got the sense that he was about to spill his guts, Blofeld-to-Bond style, when there was another flash of gold from Stark's face. Standing over Stark was a figure in a black leather suit, one that both Crichtons knew all too well. "Scorpius!" they said together.

"No, no, wait, that can't be," said Moya-John. "This Scorpy still has his coolant suit, which means you must be... Harvey!"

"Whoa, whoa, does not compute," said Talyn-John. "Neural clones can have souls?"

"I suppose we can, if we develop a distinct personality," said Harvey. "I also remember you killing me, John... uh... Johns?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" asked Moya-John.

"I remember your visit to the mentalist in Tormented Space. He used a process of psychic surgery to aid you in destroying me. It was the fun house from _The Man With the Golden Gun_... you gave me the golden gun, and shot me dead with James Bond's Walther PPK. Talk about a loaded fight..."

"Yeah, it was great, wasn't it?" said Moya-John, laughing at the memory. "I guess that makes you my Harvey." Then he noticed that Talyn-John was laughing too. "What's so funny?"

"You got rid of your Harvey in a fun house?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"Nothing. It's just that on Dam-Ba-Da, the Ancient who looked like Jack helped me kill off my Harvey-"

Stark's face flashed again, and a second Scorpius appeared. "You dropped me from a roller coaster! And after all we'd been through. I'm still not sure I can forgive you, John." Talyn-Harvey looked truly hurt, until he noticed Moya-Harvey standing there as well. "What... what is this?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" screamed Maldis.

"Don't look at us," said Moya-John. "You opened the door. It's not our fault that the Harveys came through."

"But why would they?" asked Talyn-John. "If we both got rid of 'em, I mean?"

"I should think it's obvious," said Moya-Harvey. "The psychic surgery that ended our existence did so by closing off the neural synapses that gave us life. The patterns of neurons that made us up remained in your brain, though, rather like our... deceased corpse. Maldis has used Stark's abilities to call back every part of you that crossed over, and we are still a part of you, John."

"And we always will be," affirmed Talyn-Harvey.

"Is anyone else here as confused as I am?" asked Maldis. "Enough of this - all you should have to do is touch your counterpart, and your souls will come together again. So get it over with, already. It's getting crowded on this plane of existence!"

Without a word, the two Harveys calmly overlapped each other and in no time at all, a single neural clone stood beside the prone Stykera. The Johns were more tentative; they slowly reached their hands out to each other, and... "One more time for the road?" asked Talyn-John.

"Sure, why not." One, two, three... scissors from both of them. The Crichtons grinned, and then shook hands, and where there had been two, there were now one.

"Much better," said Maldis. "That was unsettling. Now, about wormhole weapons..."

"Aw, for cryin' out... we, I mean _I_ don't have to put up with this!" said Crichton. "So how do we get out of here? Any ideas, Harv?"

"Well, let me think. All supernatural power, whether it is black magic like this sorcerer's or spiritual power like a priest's, depends greatly on your belief in the supernatural. A disciplined mind that does not believe in such irrational things as magic will be largely immune to it."

"It's a little too late for me to _not_ believe, Harvey. I kind of believe whatever I see with my own eyes."

"And yet, the fact remains that this realm is nothing more than an illusion that you are merely perceiving with your own mind. If I were to close off that perception, Maldis's hold over you would be broken."

"Well then do that, so that we can get out of here." The look on Harvey's face told John that there was more to the story. "Wait, what's the catch?"

"Um... Maldis exists on another plane of reality. If I were to break your mind free of the illusion, there is a chance, however slight, that you would perceive Maldis's realm in all its illogical, non-Euclidian madness, thereby driving both of us utterly and irrevocably insane."

"There's always a catch," grumbled John.

"Yes, that sounds like a wonderful plan," said Maldis. "Really, go ahead and try. It would amuse me."

"Harvey... whatever you do, don't try."

"Very well, John. You will simply have to come up with a solution on your own."

"As usual. At least it's what I'm good at."

Then, Stark's face gave another bright flash. "What? How many people do you have in your brain?" screamed Maldis.

"Only one other," said a powerful, serene voice. "One you should fear greatly."

"It cannot be!" exclaimed Maldis in terror.

Out of the light stepped the graceful, blue form of Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan. "And yet it is, for a part of me has always remained in John Crichton."

"Zhanny? Is it really you?" Crichton held out his hand and touched Zhaan's. She felt warm... real.

"Yes, John, it is me. This is not a memory, or a game. The talent of dear, sweet Stark has returned my soul to this world as well, though I do not yet know to what purpose."

"Perhaps it is to once again defeat that creature," commented Harvey.

Zhaan's eyes narrowed at Maldis. "Indeed, perhaps it is." Blue lines of spirit energy started to gather at Zhaan's fingertips.

"Oh, no," said Maldis, holding up a finger at the priestess. "I'll not be dispersed, not before I can feed off of the coming battle! All of you, out of my sight!"

* * *

"He's gone," said Harvey.

"Yeah, and so is the set from _2001_ ," said John. The scene had changed to an empty courtroom. John was in a normal suit and tie; Harvey wore a devil costume; and Zhaan was clad in a white gown, complete with cardboard wings, harp, and halo.

"What exactly _is_ all of this?" she asked.  
"Welcome to my subconscious," said John. "Sorry; the costumes are just sort of a thing that me and Harvey had going."

"Somehow, having a third wheel around throws off our dynamic," complained Harvey.

Zhaan laughed. "Are you jealous of my presence here, sweet clone?"

"Flattery will not work on me, Pa'u."

"Kiddies, play nice," said John. He was still looking at Zhaan in pure wonder. "This... this is because we shared unity, isn't it? You left a part of yourself in my brain, and Maldis didn't know that he'd bring you back?"

"Apparently so," said Zhaan. "It seems that my goddess wishes me to dwell within your mind for a time."

"What's it like over there, anyway?" asked Crichton. "I mean, I sorta remember a bunch of white lights, but... I keep feeling like I've forgotten it all."

"I don't believe that the living world is meant to know all that lies beyond," said Zhaan. "Already, I forget what the face of Kah'leen looks like."

"I distinctly remember burning and poking," said Harvey.

"Then all is right in the universe," said John. "I've got a devil on one shoulder, and a guardian angel on the other... Harvey _and_ Clarence."

"What does that mean?" asked Zhaan.

Harvey pointed at one of the doors of the courtroom. "James Stewart movies are that way, I believe. Enjoy the memories. As for me," he said, heading to a different door, "I want pizza and margarita shooters."

* * *

"Crichton... Crichton, wake up," said Stark.

" _Not with pizza!_ " shouted Crichton, bolting upright. Stark fell over backwards, and Joolushko screamed. That was when John realized that he was in Moya's medical bay.

The whole crew came rushing into the room in response to Jool's metal-melting voice. "John!" shouted Aeryn, rushing over to the examination table.

"H-h-h-hey, b-b-baby," he stuttered.

Aeryn said to Jool, "He's shivering, and sweating. What's wrong?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know," said Jool. "There's nothing physically wrong with him."

"I-i-i-it w-was M-m-m-m-maldis," said John. "G-g-got me b-by the w-w-wormhole."

"He's in shock," said Jool. "Crichton, listen to me. You have to rest. Just lie down; we still have two arns before the convoy reaches Sebacea."

"I'll help him to quarters," said Aeryn.

* * *

A hologram of Bialar Crais hovered over the comms unit on the _Gymettion's_ secondary command station. "Talyn is in position," he said. "It as you suspected. His sensors are detecting eight full Command Carriers, and two Super-class Command Carriers."

"The rest of the regular admiralty, and both grand admirals," said Talyn. "All of High Command and must be in the system." It was not an unreasonable assumption; the ten admirals that made up High Command rarely strayed far from Peacekeeper Space, with the exception of Talyn Lyczak. Admiral Ikal Huk had been an anomaly, one that Talyn hadn't quite put to rest in his thoughts. As for the two grand admirals that constituted First Command, they never left Sebacea unless all of Peacekeeper Space was in a state of war, something that had not happened in two-hundred cycles.

"What do you intend to do?" asked Crais.

"Oh, we could fight them," said Talyn, "and perhaps we could win. But the losses suffered would weaken us further, and we know that the scarrans have become active in Peacekeeper Space again. No, we must find a way to take the admiralty without a fight. Bluff our way onto the planet."

"There's one man in the fleet who excels at such duplicity," said Crais with an inward smile.

"Yes, I know," said Talyn. "Order all ships other than Command Carriers and leviathans to hold steady at half a light-cycle from the edge of the system. Only Peacekeeper ships go on from here. And contact John Crichton."

* * *

**Chapter 8: That is the Question**

Aeryn let Crichton lean on her shoulder until they arrived in their bedchamber, at which point John collapsed on the bed, still sweating profusely and suffering from occasional muscular spasms. Aeryn sat down on the bed and cradled John's head in her lap, never taking her eyes from his.  
"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"Maldis," said John. "H-he's been following us since... since we started this d-damned war. Feeding off the death. Getting stronger."

Aeryn was unable to conceal her anger, and her fear. "And he is doing this to you now?"

"I... I don't think so," said John. "Zhaan... Zhaan scared him off."

"Zhann."

John nodded, though his neck twitched awkwardly when he did so. "Maldis wanted me to use a wormhole weapon. When I told him to get stuffed, he tried to go after the me that already used one. That's why he needed Stark - to break on through to the other side."

John felt Aeryn tense up when he mentioned his other self. They didn't talk of him these days; Aeryn had long ago come to the conclusion that whichever John Crichton had come with her on Talyn would have died, and the other one would be her husband now. They were the same man as far as Aeryn Sun Crichton was concerned. Nevertheless, the sudden reminder of what was lost took her by surprise. "What... happened?"

"He came back," said John. "He's up in there somewhere. I'm still getting flashes... memories. Like I'm recovering from amnesia or something. I remember the budong, the piña coladas, your mother... but a lot of stuff is still mixed up. I see this dirty planet, and you're there, but I'm not. I know because you're screaming my name..." Crichton suppressed another shudder and changed the subject. "Oh, and Harvey's back too. He was still in the ol' noggin somewhere, and Tall-Dark-and-Creepy woke him up."

"But... he was destroyed. In Tormented Space, the frelling clone was destroyed!" Fate was really starting to piss off Aeryn Sun again.

"That's what I thought. I guess psychic surgery clears the mind, but leaves behind unsightly streaks. On the plus side, my brain had one other temporary resident, and that was Zhaan. Remember when we shared unity on that whacked-out moon?" Aeryn nodded, too baffled to say anything. "Well they're all in there, right now. My brain's been rented out like an over-priced bed & breakfast, and I don't even get to charge for room and board."

John zoned out for a few seconds, retreating into his subconscious. Harvey was dredging up memories of John's college philosophy courses and constructing proofs for the non-existence of God. Zhaan was patiently trying to explain that even though she was a priestess of one goddess, she wasn't technically a monotheist, and so Harvey's reasoning didn't apply to her beliefs. Crichton didn't even bother to interrupt them; he just rolled over and looked up at Aeryn. "Do you know what I miss more than anything else? The quiet."

* * *

The Peacekeeper armada sailed regally into the Sebacean system, looking for all the worlds like any other Peacekeeper armada, boldly going wherever it wanted to, as if its master owned the universe. Leviathan transports being common additions to PK convoys and floatillas, Moya and even Talyn would likely go unnoticed. After all, neither ship was well enough known outside the Uncharted Territories to be recognized on sight, least of all in the very heart of Peacekeeper Space. Just the same, they hung back to the rear of the armada, in hopes that nobody would spot their missing control-collars.

Admiral Lyzcak waited at the command station of the _Gymettion_. Unless standard procedure had changed in the past eight cycles (which was highly doubtful), he would be hailed as soon as his flagship passed the orbit of the system's fifth and outermost planet, one of its two gas-giants. Sebacea V had a number of small moons bearing sophisticated sensor arrays and communications relays. None were permanently colonized, though, as all the moons were unfit for habitation and had long since been stripped of natural resources worth mining.

As soon as the ship passed the gas-giant, the comms systems received a transmission, and on the holo-screen appeared the face of a stern, old woman with sunken eyes and whitened hair. Talyn recognized her instantly: Grand Admiral Loa Choris, rumored to be the eldest member of High Command at a whopping two-hundred-and-thirty-seven cycles of age.

"Admiral Talyn Lyczak," she pronounced, "what finally brings you back to this arm of the galaxy?" Her voice was thick with sardonic arrogance, really to be expected from high-ranking officers in the Peacekeepers.

She wasn't exaggerating about the geography, though - Nebari Space was in a completely separate spiral arm of the galaxy from Peacekeeper Space, the Scarran Empire, and the whole of the Uncharted Territories. Admiral Lyczak had been gone for seven cycles because nearly six of them had been spent on the round trip, traversing the vast distances of space involved.

"Having completed my assessment of the Nebari Establishment's military capabilities, I've come to report my findings to the council. It's more dire than we had suspected - nebari capital ships are indeed superior to anything in the Peacekeeper arsenal, and their contagion is quite real, as we had feared. I will be docking at the orbital station as soon as we have clearance - how soon can the council be assembled?" There was nothing in the galaxy like disruptor training when one wanted to lie through one's teeth to one's immediate superior.

"We will convene tomorrow at seventh arn. Will that be sufficient time to refresh yourself and your staff, and to prepare your report?" Talyn detected no sign of suspicion in the grand admiral's voice. So far, so good.

"Quite sufficient," said Talyn with a tilt of his head. "I trust we're cleared to dock at the maintenance platform?"

"I was going to ask," said Grand Admiral Choris, "why you're on secondary command, and not your bridge. It would seem that your flagship has sustained some impressive battle damage, Admiral."

"Indeed," said Talyn, choosing not to elaborate further. "If that will be all?"

The grand admiral gave a curt nod and cut the transmission.

Talyn smiled.

* * *

Aeryn tried not to talk to John, because she knew that he needed to rest, and talking would not help conserve his strength. The problem with Aeryn's strategy was that where she and John were concerned, not talking led to kissing. It was consistent enough to be scientific law.

"No," said Aeryn, pushing away.

"Yes," said Crichton, leaning in close again.

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Healer's orders. You need rest."

"And how," said John between kisses, "do you expect... me to get any... with you here... distracting me?"

It had been a long time since Aeryn had actually resisted Crichton's advances, and the fact was, she was sorely out of practice. "Oh... to hezmana with Jool's orders." Aeryn knew when she was licked. _What could it hurt, anyway? John definitely seems to be recovering his strength..._

John's comms unit beeped. "Ignore it," said Aeryn.

"Already doing that," said John.

"Commander Crichton," said Pilot, "we're receiving a message from Crais."

John sighed and rolled away from Aeryn. "What is it?"

"He was told to inform you that we've entered the Sebacean system, and the armada will make space-dock within the arn."

* * *

Moya sailed past Sebacea IV, the other gas-giant, this one with a ring system but surprisingly few moons, which made it little more than an interesting curiosity. Sebacea III had been an ice-planet until it was terraformed and colonized, and now it served as the standing garrison that defended the planet beyond. The second planet from Sebacea's primary, the homeworld, had been a desert before the days of climate-control and hyper-mechanization. Back then, there were two kinds of weather on Sebacea II, "warm" and "hotter than hezmana," and the planet's violent atmosphere caused regions to shift between the two without warning. It was the evolutionary development of heat delirium, oddly enough, that had allowed the sebaceans to sense and avoid the deadly heat, an adaptation that remained to this day in "pure" sebaceans, even though the deserts and sudden heat-storms were long gone.

Now, the planet was covered in layer after layer of high-tech urban development. It was one, gigantic, planet-wide city; a shining bastion of technology's triumph over nature. Soldiers lived there, and so did technicians. Civilians were rare on the homeworld anymore, but a few could still be found if one knew where to look, laboring away like menial slaves. For nineteen-hundred cycles, the Peacekeepers had ruled this world as a military dictatorship, abolishing the old nation-states along with most civilian freedoms. The change had been a gradual one, of course. Most sebaceans didn't have the foresight that the Breakaway Colonists had. They stayed and allowed their mercenary military to tighten control over each aspect of their lives... until about 250 cycles ago, when things truly took a turn for the worse. Required ident-chips and genetic scans for all citizens, a doctrine of racial purity, planet-wide curfew... these days, Peacekeeper control was as complete as it was merciless.

Aeryn explained much of this to John while they observed the star system from Moya's terrace. Crichton was starting to get some idea of what they were walking into - Orwell's nightmare come true.

"You know, we never decided which-"

"There's nothing to decide, John. If you go down to that planet, I'm coming with you."

"And what about Hope? It's not like we can bring her along, not down to the Planet of the Nazis. They hate half-sebaceans more than they hate non-sebaceans."

Aeryn said nothing. They had repeated this discussion ever since the battle at Delvia, monens ago. Since then, they had never really left Moya together unless it was safe enough to bring their daughter along as well. Aeryn hated letting John walk into dangerous situations when she wasn't there to personally back him up, but she agreed that it was better than taking the chance of orphaning their child. When John left the ship, she had to trust D'Argo to watch his back; when she left Moya, she had to trust John or Chiana to look after Hope. But now, John was planning on strolling into First Command Headquarters along with her father... "Why do you even have to go down there?" she asked at last.

"Your dad already hammered this out. I have to be Houdini's right hand, so that the audience can't see what the left is doing. The only thing in the galaxy that could possibly make High Command look over here," said John, waving his right hand and snapping his fingers, "is John Crichton and his wormholes showing up to crash the party."

Her eyes shut tight and her breath sucked in, Aeryn nodded. She knew it was true, but she didn't have to like it. "Who's going with you?"

"D'Argo, Sikozu, Braca, and Scorpy. Don't worry; they'll watch my back, and D'Argo can watch them."

Aeryn grabbed John and kissed him forcefully - it felt, John knew, like a kiss goodbye, even if they wouldn't actually say it. "I hate this," said Aeryn.

"Me too," said John. "It's the waiting that kills me, you know." _Fear accompanies the possibility of death... calm shepherds its certainty_. John Crichton was very afraid.

* * *

One solar day later at 6.5 arns, local time, a Marauder set down at Command Headquarters and out stepped Admiral Talyn Lyczak, along with a senior executive officer and a small detachment of guards. A few microts later, another Marauder landed on a platform nearby, this one depositing Scorpius, Sikozu, Captain Braca, and more guards. The two groups met up at the end of the platform and strode over to the officer in charge of the area.

The officer smartly stood at attention when the admiral approached. "Sir!"

"In fifteen-hundred microts, a leviathan transport pod will be landing on this platform," said Talyn. "Its passengers have my personal authorization. You will allow them to land without delay. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," said the officer. Talyn noticed that her eyes continually strayed towards Scorpius. The distracted officer never even thought of questioning the admiral's orders.

* * *

The council chamber of Command HQ was similar in style and architecture to the captain's quarters on a Command Carrier. It was a large hall with angular, gray walls, draped with red banners. A cone of light shined down from some unseen source onto a tiered dais with twelve seats arranged in a half-circle. The two central seats were elevated above the remaining ten. It was here that the two grand admirals and ten admirals convened to decide upon all matters pertaining to the Peacekeepers. It was the seat of power.

Talyn entered the chamber and saw that only two of the seats were vacant - his own, and that of Admiral Huk, who was currently a spot of space debris orbiting Hyneria.

"Talyn Lyczak," said an eyepatched male who was seated on the raised dais beside Grand Admiral Choris. This was Grand Admiral Yfrek, commander-in-chief of all Peacekeeper military operations. "First Command eagerly awaits your assessment of the Nebari Establishment, but I am wondering why Scorpius is here with you."

"I returned to Peacekeeper Space by way of the Uncharted Territories and happened to encounter his carrier," said Talyn. "He has some interesting new information regarding scarran activity, and his report will follow mine."

"You may proceed," said Grand Admiral Choris.

Talyn nodded and raised his hand, palm up. The officer to his right handed him a data-chip containing scans of various nebari host vessels, cruisers, destroyers, and fighters. It was time to show the admiralty what the sebacean people would someday be up against.

* * *

The transport pod hissed open and John jumped out, D'Argo tight on his heels. They froze when an officer and two armed guards approached.

"Halt there," said the officer. "You've been cleared to proceed by the admiral, but I need your names for the records."

"Bing Crosby," said Crichton without missing a beat.

The officer entered the name into his datapad. "And you?" he asked, turning to D'Argo.

D'Argo's voice caught in his throat. He wasn't nearly as glib as Crichton, and racked his brain for a false name - surely, "Ka D'Argo" would set off all sorts of wanted alarms if that name were entered into the planet's security computers. "Uh, I... Lou Costello."

"Lu Ka S'Tello?" repeated the officer. "Hmph... luxans. All right, this will only take a few more microts. Just empty your pockets and surrender any weapons on your persons, and you'll be free to go."

"Wait, why do we have to do that?" asked Crichton.

"It's illegal for anyone but a Peacekeeper to carry a weapon here."

"Uh, yeah, the thing about that... didn't the admiral tell you? I _am_ a Peacekeeper, and 'Lou' here has a special dispensation for his Qualta blade."

John was wearing black PK leathers, but he hadn't presented the officer with an ident-chip. "Is that so?" asked the officer. "Why don't you give me your rank and regiment, and we can have this cleared up?"

"Right, rank and regiment. Uh, 'Lou,' give the man my rank and regiment."

"With pleasure, 'Bing.'" D'Argo cracked his knuckles and stepped in front of John.

The officer managed to whimper, "This is going to hurt, isn't it?" right before D'Argo crushed a fist into his nose.

"Hey!" shouted one of the guards, raising his pulse rifle. "You can't do that! On the ground, now!"

"You're under arrest for assaulting a Peacekeeper!" said the other.

"Frell, he should be under arrest for being luxan," returned the first one.

John nudged D'Argo with his elbow. "Hey, speaking of Bing Crosby, do you remember that thing that he and Bob Hope do in all the 'Road' movies?"

"I think so, but I don't see..." Then the realization dawned on D'Argo. " _Oh_... you mean the part where they..."

John nodded and raised his hands to clap D'Argo's. "Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man..."

The poor Peacekeepers never knew what hit them.

* * *

Talyn finished running through the schematics of the nebari host-ship. "As you can see, nebari military technology is well ahead of our own. It will take time to incorporate this information into our own designs, but if the scarrans mount another full offensive, it will be time that we don't have."

"What do you know of the scarrans' plans?" asked a female admiral.

"Only that they have resumed scouting runs into Peacekeeper space," said Scorpius. "We cannot yet be sure of their troop movements or buildup efforts, but they continue to gather intelligence on ours."

"Do you see now, Admiral Lyczak, why the scarrans are the more immediate threat?" asked another admiral. "The nebari are too far away to affect what happens here, but the scarrans are at our front door! I think you've wasted eight cycles spying on the wrong enemy."

"I'm afraid I have to disagree," said Talyn, "on account of this final piece of intelligence." He waved his hand over the holo-imager, and the display shifted from a technical schematic to microscopic images of a viral agent. "The nebari have already infected much of known space with a dormant nanovirus that may be awakened at any time. Its effects are similar to drug-induced mind-cleansing, including passive behavior and loyal conformity to the Nebari Establishment. The nebari are patient, and they're waiting for us to go to war with the scarrans before they activate the virus. So you see, Admiral Derz, we are already facing a two-front war - one that we cannot win on our own."

A heavy silence fell over the council chamber. Finally, Grand Admiral Choris said, "We must decide on a new course of action, then. The survival of the sebacean race hangs in the balance."

"In that, we are in agreement," said Talyn. He took the imager and moved to turn it off, but his hand passed over the sensor again and the hologram changed to show a brown-haired, blue-eyed baby girl. "I'm sorry about that," said Talyn quickly. "Personal data... I'm not quite sure how it got on _this_ chip." Of course, Talyn was lying. He looked around the room and saw amused smiles on the faces of the admirals. His "mistake" had evaporated the carefully built-up tension in the room.

"Your offspring?" asked Grand Admiral Yfrek.

"My daughter's, actually," said Talyn.

"Nevertheless, a beautiful example of pure sebacean breeding," said the grand admiral. "I'm sure your daughter is proud."

"Oh, she is, I assure you," said Talyn. "Now, about the matter at hand. The way I see it, we only have one choice: we need allies. As many as we can get."

"Like who?" asked another admiral. "The Breakaway Colonists? They hate us, and they won't side with us out of fear for the scarrans."

"Surely they see that the scarrans will attack them after they're through with us?" said Admiral Derz. "When the war comes, they will side with sebaceans."

"Perhaps," said Talyn, "but even the colonials won't be enough. We must gather every available fighting force in this part of space to make a stand."

"You mean aliens, don't you?" asked Grand Admiral Yfrek.

"It's our only choice," said Talyn.

The admiral on the far right-hand side of the table suddenly stood up. He was holding a datapad, and his hands were shaking. "I... I... just..."

 _Hmph_ , thought Talyn, _took them long enough to notice._

"Spit it out, man," said Grand Admiral Choris.

"I just accessed the breeding records, out of curiosity, and Admiral Lyczak has only one offspring: _Aeryn Sun_!"

Talyn decided that this was going to be fun. "Yes, that's her," he said. "Officer Aeryn Sun, Icarien Company, Pleisar Regiment. Last post was Prowler pilot and special commando, I believe, serving under one Captain Bialar Crais if memory serves."

Choris slowly rose from her seat and said, "Admiral Lyczak... Talyn... I don't know how to tell you this, but your daughter - Officer Sun - was deemed irreversibly contaminated by Captain Crais nearly six cycles ago. Since then, she committed several acts of treason in the company of a group of escaped prisoners, but was pardoned two cycles ago. The last we heard of her, she was... _mated_ to one John Crichton. An alien."

Talyn kept his face blank, but he was enjoying this. "I... I'd heard rumors, but... tell me, about this John Crichton? They say that he looks sebacean, and that he commands powerful technology."

"Scorpius can tell you all about his technology," said Yfrek. "'Wormholes' or some such phenomena. I don't understand them myself. But at least one rumor is true, he does look like a sebacean - some kind of abomination."

"Abomination?" asked Talyn. He activated the imager and one again displayed the hologram of his granddaughter. "If that is so, then tell me, is this child an abomination? She is, after all, the daughter of Aeryn Sun and John Crichton."

Yfrek and the other admirals practically fell off of their chairs. "You mean...?"

"Yes," said Talyn. "This 'beautiful example of pure sebacean breeding' is half alien. Lesson the first: pure bloodlines and prejudice against non-sebaceans will not save us from the scarrans or the nebari. Wouldn't you agree, Scorpius?"

"Indeed," said the half-scarran with a superior grin. "And as I've told all of you before, if there is one alien we want on our side, it is John Crichton. You tried being his enemy, and, well... you remember how _that_ worked out."

"But," said Yfrek, "if you have that image, that means that you've met with Crichton since returning to this space!"

"So I have," said Talyn.

"Well... where is he?"

The doors burst open. " _Heeere's Johnny_!" Crichton and D'Argo had been listening at the door, waiting for that perfect cue... making a good entrance was all about timing.

The pair of them waltzed right into the room and stood with Talyn and Scorpius. Several of the admirals went for their pulse pistols or comms, but Crichton stopped them. "Ah-ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you want to know what _this_ is?" He held up a remote control device. (It was actually the remote control to his big-screen TV and stereo, but they didn't have to know that.) "All I have to do is press a few buttons, and this planet gets wormholed into Dimension X. Do I have your attention now, class?"

"He's mad," said Admiral Derz. "You, you're mad, aren't you?"

"Could be," said Crichton, letting a tiny glint of "crazy" show in his eyes. "But if I am, it's all _this_ guy's fault!" He threw his arm around Scorpius's shoulder and said, "Go on and tell 'em, Scorpy. Don't be shy."

"It is true," said Scorpius. "Crichton's sanity was first compromised by the Aurora Chair and my neurochip."

" _Which_ ," said Crichton emphatically, "I am told is the standard method of Peacekeeper interrogation. In fact, the standard method of Peacekeeper _everything_ seems to be 'how can we make people _hate_ us as much as possible?' Which is why I'm here. For a long time, I have wanted to ask you a very, very important question." Crichton let the sudden silence hang in the room, waited for it to become unbearable, waited until each and every Peacekeeper admiral was fidgeting nervously and leaning forward in his or her chair.

Crichton finally spoke: "What... _is the matter..._ _ **with you people?!**_ "

* * *

**Chapter 9: Let's Twist Again**

Chiana was waiting in a lounge aboard the Hynerian Navy's imperial yacht, currently drifting at the rear of the naval convoy, a couple of light-cycles away from the edge of the Sebacean system. Lights of green, blue, and violet shined down from the lounge ceiling, causing patterns to twirl on the floors and walls in time to the wild music. The colors reflected oddly off clouds of fog, which were pumped into the atmospherics by the ship's humidifier to keep its semi-aquatic passengers comfortable. Completely ignoring the cold and clammy air, Chiana sat at the bar and drained another raslak. She hated waiting. It didn't help that there was nobody around worth dancing with.

The hynerians in the lounge weren't taken to dancing, preferring instead to rest on hover-sleds and eat and drink to their hearts' content. The dzulians were another matter. These beings were mostly anthropoid in shape, despite numerous piscine characteristics, and they filled the dance floor, jumping here and there and flapping their gills to the tune. As a species, the dzulians were friends to the hynerians, influential in the empire and indispensable to its navy. Unfortunately for Chiana, they were also terrible dancers; it would have been embarrassing to join them on the floor.

"B'rkeep," said Chiana, "'Nuther razkak."

On the other side of the bar floated a male hynerian who looked old enough to be Rygel's father. His shriveled skin sagged so that his mouth resembled a perfect upside-down "U," and his white moustaches dangled well below the bottom of his hover-sled. "You sound like you've had one raslak too many, young nebari," said the bartender.

"If the lady wants another raslak, then you would do well to give her another raslak," said a voice from the doorway. Dominar Rygel XVI floated into the lounge. "She likes hers hot. Make mine a double on the rocks."

The barkeep bowed his head low and said, "Your Eminence," before turning away to fix the drinks.

Chiana glanced sideways at Rygel and stifled a drunken giggle. "Hey, Your Frogsh'p... what's a nice dom'nar like y'rself doin' in a place like th's?"

"I'm looking for someone who thinks like a thief. Better than me, I mean."

Curious, Chiana rested her elbow on the bar and propped herself up. "Ya found someone. C'n I ask what for?"

"Nothing exciting," said Rygel. "I was just going over some of the data recovered from the dead Command Carriers. It seems that Admiral Ikal Huk was extorting a hefty sum from Bishan every cycle, and taking payoffs from charrid pirates at the same time."

"So?"

"So, it's unlikely that he kept his takings on his ship. It would be too easy for one of his officers to find out, threaten to report his infraction to High Command, and have his mivonks in a vise. No, somewhere on Hyneria there is a great deal of currency that rightfully belongs in my imperial treasury..."

"And ya want it found real quiet-like, right?" Chiana smiled wide, causing Rygel to wrinkle his nose-holes at the pungent scent of alcohol. "I'll help ya... f'r fi'ty percent."

"Thirty."

"F'rty, and that's fin'l!"

"Done," said Rygel. Most of the money indicated in the records had been charrid loot taken from hynerian merchant companies, so even if he gave forty percent to Chiana, he would actually be turning a tidy personal profit.

Chiana didn't hear him agree to the deal. She had fallen face-down onto the bar, passed out.

* * *

"It's a simple question," said Crichton. "What is wrong with all of you? Anyone... anyone? No...? Don't have answer? That's okay, I've got one. We've got a saying back on Earth: 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely.' Happens to humans all the time, so I guess I can't really be surprised that it happens with sebaceans. After all, we _are_ an awful lot alike."

Several admirals scoffed at the notion, but Crichton drowned out their words of protest by shouting, " _Case in point_ , the whole 'not liking aliens' thing. Been there, done that. Likewise on the military dictatorship. Tried it, found out that it was a frelling dumb idea, and moved on. You see, we humans have another saying: 'Don't piss into the wind.' I... uh... I'm sure that had something to do with the point I was trying to make, but... damn. I lost my train of thought. Sorry."

John could tell that his tirades were starting to wear thin on the admiralty. The majority of them were on the verge of some sort of emotional outburst, though it varied from admiral to admiral between shades of fear and anger. Some were quaking with rage, while others looked near to tears. One of the distressed officers finally shouted, "What do you want? Just tell us!"

Crichton breathed in slowly and held his arms out wide. This was it. "I'm glad you asked-"

"John," whispered Scorpius, touching Crichton lightly on the shoulder, "normally I wouldn't interrupt... whatever this is... but something has come to my attention-"

Crichton whirled around. "Not now, Grasshopper," he whispered back. "I'm kinda busy here!"

"John Crichton," said Scorpius, no longer attempting discretion, "this is important. I must speak with you _right now_."

Crichton sighed and faced the admirals again. "Excuse me for _just_ one microt." He turned around, and everyone in the room saw Scorpius whisper something in Crichton's ear that made his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. The fact was, mention of the Aurora Chair and the neurochip had caused Scorpius to remember the very first day that he met Crichton, and how a simple observation had spotted him as an intruder... "Ladies and gentleman," said Crichton, "my cadaverous colleague has just brought something to my attention that may surprise all of you.

"Now, I'm not sure if any of you know how Scorpy and I met, but it went down kind of like this: I snuck onto his gammak base disguised as a Peacekeeper captain, and I would've pulled it off if Scorp here hadn't seen me. My body temperature is a lot higher than a sebacean's, and Scorpy's half-scarran eyes can see heat signatures.

"Now, I know what you're thinking: 'But Professor Crichton, what does that fun fact have to do with the price of tea in China?' Well, it seems that somebody in this room, somebody wearing the uniform of a _very_ highly-ranked Peacekeeper officer, has an energy signature that's even warmer than mine. Hot enough to fricassee a pure sebacean's brain, and make its own gravy on the side." Crichton paused to let everything sink in. Even Talyn was visibly surprised. The admirals seated at the table were shocked out of their wits - all, that is, except one, who was sitting perfectly still, trying desperately to hide the terror in his eyes. "So," said Crichton, "care to explain that, Grand Admiral Yfrek?"

All eyes in the room turned on the grand admiral, who slowly rose from his chair. "It-it's a lie! They're all lying, all insane!"

"Oh, come now," said Scorpius. "Your bioenergy is rising by the microt - and fluctuating wildly, I might add, which usually indicates that you are not telling the truth."

Yfrek's face hardened, and he scowled madly at Crichton and Scorpius. "Are you going to take the word of a mad alien and a half-scarran over mine?" he thundered.

"A DNA test would tell for sure," offered Talyn.

"Or you could just feel his forehead," said the officer standing next to Talyn. Up until now, nobody had paid him any attention whatsoever, but when he spoke, it became plain to all in the room that he didn't speak Peacekeeper Sebacean or any colony-world sebacean language that anyone knew - he was speaking John Crichton's distinct human language. It was, of course, Jack Crichton, who had come down to the planet on the Marauder with Talyn to observe the proceedings and watch his son in action.

As for Grand Admiral Yfrek, he didn't let the conversation go beyond Jack's suggestion. With a loud hiss, he leapt high over the table in John's direction, flipped over in mid-air, and landed in a fighting stance with uncanny dexterity.

"Nice trick," said Crichton. "Everybody's kung-fu fighting."

"Enough of your human nonsense!" hissed Yfrek. His language was no longer a sebacean tongue either; now he was speaking with a high-pitched, rasping voice and using a language that Crichton didn't recognize (even if his translator microbes did). Yfrek pressed his fingers together and jabbed at Crichton so quickly that he could do nothing to dodge or parry the blow. Crichton felt the attack strike some sort of pressure-point, and suddenly his body seized up and he fell to the ground, paralyzed. The TV remote fell from his grasp and clattered across the floor.

It was then that D'Argo hissed and drew his Qualta blade - he recognized that nerve pinch. "A scorvian!" he shouted. The scorvians had never ceased hostilities against the luxans and the ilanics; bloody skirmishes still plagued the ilanics' territories. Bordering on hyper-rage, D'Argo bellowed a string of Luxan curses and rushed at Yfrek with the full intent of beheading him where he stood.

Sikozu, utterly bewildered, muttered, "I'm sure this can't be right. Scorvians look nothing like sebaceans!"

"Genetic manipulation, my dear," said Scorpius. "The scorvains are quite adept at the art. Their spies may appear however they wish to."

D'Argo, meanwhile, pressed his attack, slashing wildly with his blade while the scorvain dodged and danced. The admirals were in state of panicked chaos now, some reaching for comms and others for weapons. Only Loa Choris kept her head: she dove for the remote, which sat mere denches from Chrichton's motionless hand.

"Nobody move!" Grand Admiral Choris's commanding voice echoed throughout the chamber, while the other admirals' comms were answered by a small platoon of Peacekeeper infantry marching smartly into the chamber. Pulse rifles trained on D'Argo and Yfrek, but they continued fighting as if oblivious to the fact - and everybody else in the room stood watching the graceful battle, as paralyzed by the sight as Crichton was by the nerve pinch.

"You," said D'Argo between strikes, "are the one who had Grayza betray the luxans! Admit it!"

"Of course!" rasped Yfrek, laughing as he continued to evade D'Argo's attacks. "Who needs _luxans_ , anyway?"

D'Argo saw the opening and took advantage. Blinded by a false sense of superiority, underestimating the skill of an angered luxan warrior, Yfrek did not anticipate D'Argo's tongue. The envenomed appendage lashed out, and the scorvian stood suddenly still, his limbs and eyelids drooping. "Even as Grayza's peace treaty was betrayed by the scarrans... you would see the luxans _and_ the sebaceans destroyed, just to ease your war with the ilanics." D'Argo felt neither pity nor mercy for this creature and plunged the Qualta blade into his chest.

Grand Admiral Choris called for a pair of guards and quietly ordered them to remove the body of Grand Admiral Yfrek. "Scorpius and Ka D'Argo," she said, "The Peacekeepers thank you for exposing and destroying the spy in our midst. And Talyn Lyczak... now you see why we have only ourselves to rely on. Do you still believe that aliens can be anything but our enemies, or our servants?"

"No race was ever our servants, not willingly," said Talyn, "though they could be our allies, if we let them."

"A dangerous idea," said Choris. "Proof enough that even the admiralty is not above irrevocable contamination. Take him away!" Two more guards stepped forward and seized Talyn by the arms.

Believing herself once again in full control of the situation, Choris strolled calmly over to Jack Crichton. "Who are you?" she asked. "A human, obviously, but why are you here?"

Jack had to put on a face of courage, for his son if no other reason. "I'm Colonel Jack Crichton, Ma'am. Ambassador from Earth."

"Crichton? I see..." She nodded towards John, who was only now able to twitch a limb or wiggle a finger. "Your son?" Jack merely nodded, but the gesture carried a certain pride that the grand admiral had only ever seen in other Peacekeepers. _It must be because they look sebacean_ , she thought.

Choris then walked over to John Crichton and stood above him, dangling the remote control in one hand. "And you, John Crichton... you have been a plague on this organization for far too long. You come here with self-righteous platitudes and threats of genocide, and where are you now? I have the control device, and soon enough we will have the wormhole weapon that it operates. I suppose I should thank you for that. So, as my way of saying thanks, your execution shall be swift." She raised her hand and ordered, "Pulse pistol." One of the admirals placed his own weapon in her hand. She calmly trained the weapon on Crichton's head, savoring the fear in his eyes...

"Drop it!" shouted Jack.

Choris looked up and saw the older human, threatening her with... "A slug-thrower?" It was almost laughable. "The rumors are true then. Humans are a race of primitives!"

"That may be, but you should see what a .357 round does to a scarran," said Jack. His theory had been proven and re-proven on several trips to commerce planets, leaving Jack to wonder what assault rifles and armor-piercing bullets would have done to those creatures that were impervious to pulse-fire.

Grand Admiral Choris said nothing to that, though for a brief instant, Jack thought that he might have scared her a little. "Kill him," said Choris to the guards.

Two more guards stepped forward and grabbed Jack, marching him over to where Talyn stood. Jack was forced to hand over his pistol, and didn't resist.

"I said kill him, not seize him!" shouted Choris.

Then, things went to hezmana. A good two-thirds of the guards snapped their hands back, ejecting stilettos from their wrists. In a few swift motions, the guards who actually _were_ low-ranking grunts were slain by the elite disruptors. These remaining warriors then raised their pulse-rifles again, this time training them on the admirals.

Crichton was still a little stiff, but by the time the solders had rounded up and disarmed the admirals, he was able to stand again. "Disruptors," he said to Talyn. "Nice touch." He walked over to where Choris was kneeling, a disruptor holding a pulse rifle to her head, and snatched the remote from her grasp. "I'll be needing this," he said. "It controls my state-of-the-art entertainment center. Can't program my VCR without it."

The understanding that it had all been a masterful bluff dawned on the grand admiral, but before she could say anything, the doors burst open.

Aeryn Sun, a pulse cannon strapped over her shoulder, dashed into the room. " _Nobody move!_ " she ordered.

John looked at his wife, his face screwing into a half-grin. "Aeryn... it's over. We're done. Good guys win."

Aeryn looked around the room and realized with embarrassment that it was indeed the case. "I... I'm sorry. I just couldn't take waiting for you. I thought you might need backup."

"Backup from you is _always_ a good thing, babe, but... where's Hope?"

"With the nursery techs on the Command Carrier."

"Peacekeeper day-care? Huh. How come I never thought of that?"

"Because you lack imagination."

"I do not!"

It went back and forth like that for arns.

* * *

A couple of monens later...

The new Sebacean Republic was finally coming into its own. The rebel Peacekeepers had essentially dismantled any infrastructure that the borders of Peacekeeper Space once had, when they knocked out communications and blocked off shipping lanes everywhere they went. These past monens had been spent rebuilding what was destroyed, both on sebacean and alien worlds.  
The new government had been a challenge to create, but once it had been instituted, things went smoothly. Talyn, Jack, and John decided that the best thing to do would be to call in political scientists from another planet and have them aid in the framing of a constitution. To that end, Joolushko was sent to Inter to collect as many intellectuals as were willing to come. With Jack Crichton's knowledge of democratic government as a loose guide, they quickly set about bringing a new order to the sebacean worlds. Separating the Peacekeepers from the government had been a confusing step to most sebaceans, but once it was explained that the Peacekeepers would go back to being what they were 2000 cycles ago - the military that defended, rather than controlled, Sebacean Space and surrounding areas - the Peacekeepers quickly fell into line. The fact was, it was still in their nature to take orders rather than question them. The rest could only come with time.

Admiral Talyn Lyczak left the Peacekeepers soon after, appointing the newly-promoted Admiral Bialar Crais to his old position as head of Special Directorate. The leviathan gunship, "Talyn Jr.," became the flagship for the Peacekeeper Intelligence services. Since the Peacekeepers still wanted a ranking officer to look to, and anyone who knew Talyn Lyczak also knew of his natural ability to lead, it wasn't surprising that he was elected to the first presidency of the Sebacean Republic. One who did surprise many (especially those who knew the man) was Miklo Braca, who also left Peacekeeper military service and was appointed vice president by President Lyczak.

As for Jack Crichton, he stayed at the new Earth Embassy, where he worked to solidify and strengthen the alliances between Earth, the Sebacean Republic and the independent worlds that its Peacekeepers defended, the Royal Breakaway Colonies, the Luxan-Ilanic Confederation, and of course, the Hynerian Empire. It was amazing work, a thrill a minute, each day, every day to the old Apollo astronaut who had once thought he might never even go into space again. But it had been two years, and Jack had not even communicated with Earth. He hadn't seen his daughters, or watched his grandson growing up, in what felt like too long a time.

And so, one day, he went to see his son.

* * *

John Crichton and Aeryn Sun had lived these past few monens in a lavish apartment on the top floor of one of Sebacea's many high-rise buildings. There had been much work to do with the rebuilding of what was lost and the creation of what was to come, but through it all they squeezed every last drop of time that they could find to simply be together as a family, along with Hope, Jack, Talyn, and when they were in the system, Moya and the rest of her crew.

Today was one of the rare days that John and Aeryn were alone together, sharing a moment of relative peace. Hope, entering into that stage of childhood that John called "the terrible twos," was napping after one of her rare (but explosive) tantrums. They were in the kitchen, John attempting yet again to replicate pizza crust with the local ingredients, and failing miserably. Aeryn was trying not to laugh at his every pathetic culinary disaster, but even a tough-chick ex-Peacekeeper could only take so much.

Jack Crichton walked in on Aeryn laughing hysterically, and John retaliating by throwing handfuls of a greenish flour-like substance at her.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked.

"Dad... no, come on in!"

"I'd like to talk to you," said Jack, "about going home."

Aeryn stood up. "I'm going to go wash this _ngeraj_ -powder out of my hair." She excused herself quickly.

John figured that Aeryn would talk to him when she wanted to, so he turned his attention to Jack. "You want to go back to Earth."

"I miss it," said Jack. "I miss your sisters, and the rest of the family. And I still have a duty to the United Nations to formalize these alliances."

"I understand," said John. "It _has_ been a while... it was probably high time I opened up a new wormhole."

"That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. It's going to have to be big. Like the one you used to move the fleet."

"Why?"

"Remember all the battle damage the _Gymettion_ took? Most of it was never repaired. The carrier was old enough to be decommissioned a long time ago, so nobody bothered. Some techs got the bridge fixed up, though, and she's ready for her final voyage. Talyn wants to give it to Earth, so we can defend ourselves in an emergency."

"Did I hear you right?" asked Aeryn, coming back into the room. "Father's giving his flagship to _Earth_?"

"More like reassigning it," said Jack. "It was going to be scrapped anyway. He'd rather put it good use than see his old boat destroyed."

John crossed over to Aeryn and took her hand in his. "What you say we take a little family vacation, baby? I hear Earth is pretty is time of the cycle."

"Can you do it?" asked Aeryn. The phase stabilizer that John had built was still attached to his module, so she assumed that the answer was "yes."

"Sure I can, babe," said John. "The hard part'll be leading the _Gymettion_ through with me. But there's one thing I can't wait to see..."

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"The looks on everyone's faces when we pull up to the curb in a Command Carrier."

Aeryn smiled wide. "Oh, that _will_ be worth it."

* * *

An impressive crowd had assembled to see the Crichtons off on their trip to Earth. Bialar Crais and Miklo Braca were there, as was Talyn Lyczak. Even Scorpius and Sikozu had shown up, despite the tension that still caused Crichton. Rygel was there, as were D'Argo and Chiana, Stark and Noranti, and finally, Joolushko. There were handshakes and hugs as friends and, indeed, family prepared to part ways.

Jool had decided to visit Earth, and so she would be joining the Crichtons on this voyage. With Rygel leaving Moya to once again be dominar, that left her with a mere four crew members. D'Argo and Chiana were still determined to remain in this part of space until they could find a geneticist that might help them conceive a child; and Noranti and Stark were happy to follow them. Moya was glad, at least, for those who chose to remain with her.

It was a parting of ways, two separate paths finally diverging for the crew of the leviathan. It was a bittersweet separation that both Moya and Pilot felt profoundly. They had always known that this rare group of people, once thrown together unwillingly but now closer than blood relatives, would not always share a single destiny. Yet, they could not help feeling sad when the _Farscape One_ pulled into open space and called forth the wormhole that would bear their dear friends to the other side of the galaxy.

«It's okay,» Moya said to Pilot in her calm, motherly way. «It really is.»

"I know," said Pilot, as he watched the _Gymettion_ enter the vortex and disappear from sight. "I know it, because they'll be back."


	7. The Farscape Future Series, Part 3 - Terra Incognita

**Chapter 1: Collisions**

Captain Aeryn Sun. It had a nice ring to it. Granted, she might not be allowed to serve as captain of the Command Carrier for very long. To be sure, it was only staffed by a skeleton crew of sebaceans and delvians who had volunteered to go to Earth with them. Certainly, its fate rested in her mate's ability to guide the gigantic ship through a wormhole of tenuous stability. Nevertheless, at the moment, she was Captain Aeryn Sun. Her father's words still rang in her ears: _"Nobody deserves this rank more than you, Aeryn. You've earned it time and again; I'm just glad that I get to be the one who finally makes it official."_ Aeryn found it hard to believe that all she had once imagined for her life was service, promotion, retirement, and death...

"Captain... Ma'am?"

Aeryn placed her hands behind her back and faced the crewman who had crept up behind her. "Yes, Lieutenant? What is it?"

"We've just received a transmission from Commander Crichton. He says that we've exited the wormhole, and he's returning to the carrier."

"Have him land in docking bay 1."

"Yes, Ma'am." The lieutenant turned to carry out her orders, leaving Aeryn Sun once again alone on the bridge.

Aeryn paused to glance at the navigational console. The ship's computers couldn't get a read on their position. At first, Aeryn thought that they must indeed be near Earth - triangulating star positions from opposite sides of the galaxy was too difficult even for the sophisticated navicomputer of a Command Carrier. Then, she noticed that the console was indicating no stars at all on which to base their position. _That can't be right_ , Aeryn thought to herself. Mass readings were off the charts - there was _something_ out there, and it wasn't the starless void between galaxies, of that she was certain.

"I love a beautiful woman in uniform." Aeryn looked up when John came onto the bridge. Crichton quickly crossed the empty space between them and embraced Aeryn from behind, looking over her shoulder while she stared at the readouts. "What'cha doin'?"

"Trying to find out where..." Aeryn sucked in her breath while Crichton lazily kissed the nape of her neck. "...where in hezmana your wormhole spat us out!" she finally finished. She was trying, spirits help her, to focus on this problem, but her husband could be so damned _distracting_!

"Don't worry about it," said John. "We're in the Hynerian Empire."

Aeryn spun around in John's arms and leaned back on the console. "And just what the frell are we doing here? Why are there mass readings, but no stars?"

"Because we're inside a black hole cluster."

_"What?!"_

"Hey, relax." John slid his hands down to grasp hers - if they were holding hands, Aeryn couldn't sucker-punch him. "Rygel told me about this place. It's called the Maljin Cluster. It's an enormous field of black holes, a whole bunch of quantum singularities packed together so tight that nothing can navigate between them... but if you can jump dimensions, like, say, with StarBurst or a wormhole, you can get inside the cluster. The hynerian scientists theorized that there must be a wormhole nexus somewhere in the center of the cluster, where the gravitational stresses all overlap and balance out. That would make conditions ideal for a stable, permanent wormhole to form."

"But, couldn't you just _make_ a wormhole to Earth?" asked Aeryn.

"I could... but then the scarrans or some rogue Peacekeeper faction would be able to use it too. We've already been down that road once. It's still too risky."

Aeryn was starting to catch on to his idea. "But if you make the wormhole in here, nobody can get to it unless they have wormholes too... or a leviathan."

"According to Rygel, whenever scientists tried to use a leviathan to jump into the cluster, the stresses always destroyed the control collar and made the ship go bananas. The point is, this is our safest bet."

"All right. How long until you can establish the wormhole?"

"A little over an arn," said John. "We can sit tight right here until then."

Aeryn and John both fell silent, until Aeryn asked, "Is, um... Zhaan... doing okay?"

 _That was out of the blue_ , thought John. _No pun intended_. "I s'pose so. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that... you didn't tell anybody else what happened, and I would think that they have a right to know."

John sighed and flopped down onto a bridge tech's seat. "I would've told them, but..."

"Go on," prodded Aeryn. "You can tell me."

"Stark was there, so he knew. He knew that Zhaan was up here, and he wanted to talk to her. I didn't know if it worked that way, if I could let Zhaan have control or not, but I tried. Suddenly, I was in there and Zhaan was out here calling the shots, talking to Stark... and it... got weird."

Aeryn's jaw dropped. "You don't mean-"

"Oh, yes I do. Stark and Zhaan Frenched using _my_ lips." John shuddered involuntarily. "Like I said, _weird_. And the moral of the story is, I'm not letting anybody take control of my body, until I have at least 60,000 light-cycles between me and that freaky banik!"

Aeryn sympathized greatly with John - frell, she certainly didn't like the idea of Stark touching her husband's body, no matter who was at the control stick – _no, wait, bad analogy_. "I'd still like to talk to her," said Aeryn. "It's been so long..."

"I don't know-"

"There's a wall of black holes between this carrier and Stark. Trust me, I won't let the big, bad banik get you."

John didn't like to be teased, especially when it was over something embarrassing that had happened to him through no fault of his own. "Even so-"

"If you let me talk to Zhaan, I'll let you teach me what 'Frenching' is."

Without another word, Crichton closed his eyes and retreated into his subconscious.

* * *

Harvey sat on the sofa in a striped t-shirt, jean shorts, and a red ballcap. Zhaan was next to him in a checked dress and a bright, orange-red wig with long pig-tails. They were staring at a television screen, while bouncy 8-bit music repeated in the background.

"You press B to dash, and A to Jump," explained Harvey, "and if you get to the end of the last level, you save the beautiful Princess Aeryn from evil King Koopa."

"It seems simple enough," said Zhaan. She raised the control pad and the figure on the screen - which looked unsettlingly like Mario in an IASA flight-suit - promptly walked off a cliff and died.

John walked into the room and switched off the game console. "Game over, kids. It's a beautiful day; why don't you go play outside?"

"No fair," said Harvey. "She had three more lives left!"

John reached into his pocket and drew out a fistful of quarters. "Here," said said, tossing them to Harvey. "Go to the arcade. Fry your eyeballs. Melt your brain. Have fun. Just _leave_."

"Very well," said Harvey, standing up and heading to the front door. "I can see when I'm not wanted." He shouted to Zhaan, "You can come over to my house next time - I'll have my Mom make us some Rice-Krispie Treats and Kool-Aid!"

Crichton slammed the door behind him. "Okay, now that 'the Beave' is gone..."

Zhaan ditched her costume and stood up. "You wanted to speak with me, John?"

"Actually, it's Aeryn," said Crichton. "Do you have a minute?"

* * *

John's eyes opened again, but Aeryn could tell at once that it wasn't _him_. Someone else was at the helm. "Aeryn," said Zhaan, "you look well."

"Zhaan... it's really you?"

Zhaan nodded.

"It's not... the clone, pulling some sort of mind-frell?"

Ever patient, Zhaan shook John's head and smiled. "No, Aeryn. I can assure you that I am truly here."

Aeryn felt tears forming in her eyes. When she tried to speak, her words caught in her throat and she fell into John's arms. "We've all missed you _so_ much," she sobbed.

Zhaan could only think that Aeryn had changed so much in the four cycles since her own death - the Aeryn she knew would never have reacted with such emotion. "There now, my dear, it's all right... you wanted to speak with me, and I am here, for a while."

Aeryn looked up, sudden fire in her eyes, and socked Zhaan in John's arm. "Why the frell did you go and leave us?"

"I made a choice, Aeryn. It was worth my life to save Moya, and all of you on board. I was not to live much longer anyway; you knew that."

"That's not what I meant - I mean, the first time. Why did you give your life for mine?"

"Do you... regret my giving you a second chance at life?"

"No!" said Aeryn quickly. "Never. I just... never understood why. I always thought the price was too high."

"Another choice," said Zhaan. "My life was long and full. Yours was only truly beginning. And because you lived, Crichton lived... and Hope lived... and so will this one," said Zhaan, laying a hand on Aeryn's stomach.

Aeryn froze. "You mean... I... again?"

Zhaan laughed. "You seem surprised, child! I dare say you shouldn't be, with the way you and John constantly... er, chose _not_ to waste the time you've been given."

Aeryn felt her hand fall to her belly. "We wasted so much time, though... I died, but John didn't want to waste any time. I pushed him away. And again, when he died... but when I came back, he..."

"All in the past," said Zhaan. "You're together now. Happily married. Isn't that what matters?"

"But, you don't..." Aeryn was having trouble finding the words. "We took so long, wasted so much time, and John's not going to live as long as I am. Humans don't live as long as sebaceans. He'll die again in forty cycles, and then I'll be alone."

Zhaan regarded Aeryn, confused. "Oh. I see. He never told you."

"Told me what?"

"Two cycles ago, before you entered Royal Colony Space, John and D'Argo encountered Scorpius's Command Carrier. Did John ever mention that?"

"No," said Aeryn, suddenly afraid of whatever Zhaan knew that she didn't.

"John's DNA was altered, his natural lifespan tripled. If neither of you are killed, you shall lead the rest of your lives together."

"Why wouldn't... why didn't he ever tell me?"

Zhaan shrugged. "He is Crichton. Perhaps he wanted it to be a surprise. Or perhaps he does not entirely believe it to be true."

"Crichton?" The door to the bridge hissed open, and Jool walked in. "When did you learn to speak Delvian?"

Zhaan waved her hands over her head in the Pa'u gesture of greeting and said, "It is good to see you again, Joolushko Hovalis."

Jool stared, open-mouthed. The voice, the mannerisms... "Zhaan? What... how...?"

 _Here we go again_ , thought Zhaan.

An arn later, Crichton was outside the Command Carrier in the _Farscape One_. The back of his mind was buzzing. _There be wormholes. My spider-sense is tingling_. "Is everybody ready, Aeryn?" he asked over the comms.

"We're all waiting on you," she replied.

"Hey, Aeryn... what did you and Zhaan talk about?"

"You mean she won't tell you?"

"She said that I should ask you."

"Ask me later, then," said Aeryn.

"Okay," shrugged Crichton. "One big-ass, extra-large wormhole, comin' right up." _Would you like any fries with that?_ Sometimes Crichton kept his punchlines to himself, because he knew there just wouldn't be any explaining them.

* * *

The _Farscape 3_ came out of hyperspace on the edge of the star system nearest Earth, the ternary Alpha Centauri system. The ship was shaped like the original _Farscape_ module, but much larger - twice the size of the space-shuttle. Much of that volume was taken up by the newly designed, highly experimental StarDrive, an artificial StarBurst chamber that had been based on Talyn's hybrid biomechanoid/mechanical design. Testing the StarDrive was sole purpose for this test-flight of the _Farscape 3_.

Not long after Talyn's short visit to Earth, scientists had been able to use the gunship's more accessible technical database to build a working hetch drive. The _Farscape 2_ was constructed, fitted with the new drive, and sent out on three test flights within the solar system. Its fastest run was clocked at mach 880,000 - not quite lightspeed, but achingly close to it.

After that famous flight, all mention of "hetch" drives had been forgotten. Human engineers (most of them hardcore Trekkers) figured that whatever humans could build, humans could name. So, the device was quickly re-christened the warp drive, and engineers world-wide set about finally breaking the light barrier.

The _Farscape 3_ had been fitted with a new and improved warp drive that could just barely clear "warp 1.1" - or about 1.37 times the speed of light. Human-built hetch drives weren't going to carry the people of Earth to the stars anytime soon, that much was clear. There was still too much that they didn't understand about manipulating gravity fields in such a way that a massive object could move exponentially faster than light.

And that was why scientists the world over decided that they would be better off trying to recreate StarBurst, rather than the hetch drive. Hyperspace travel was mind-bogglingly fast compared even to the more conventional FTL, in excess of hetch 85, and so they focused on creating the StarDrive. Using schematics of Talyn's drive systems, they had been able to accomplish what the Peacekeepers never could with only pure biomechanoid leviathans to base designs on. They created an entirely mechanical StarBurst chamber; and the amazing thing was, it worked.

"The StarDrive is off-line, sir," said Lt. Cmdr. Hailey Quinn, one of the test-shuttle's four crew members. She shook her head at the diagnostic screens and said, "The power conduits between the reactor and the hyperspace chamber are fried. We'll have to go EV to replace them."

"Damn it," swore Col. Ghellar, the mission commander. "All right. Sanchez, you come with me. Quinn, stay here and help the doc take his pictures."

The fourth crewman was Dr. Winston Baxter, a British astronomer who had been lucky enough to be selected to join the _Farscape_ project and get an up-close-and-personal look at the Sol system's nearest neighbors. At the moment, Dr. Baxter was sitting with his bald head set firmly between his knees, a vomit bag at the ready. The first ever artificial StarBurst had been a bumpy ride. Baxter looked up, his face pale, and he asked, "Lieutenant Commander, how are we on fuel?"

She checked another panel labeled "Uranium-238" and nodded. "Two-thirds. More than enough to StarBurst home... if they fix the conduits."

"Hey, Colonel," said Commander Sanchez while they donned EV suits, "do you know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"If we send a distress signal to Earth, it'll travel at the speed of light, C, because it's a radio wave, right? And if we can't fix the StarDrive, and we have to use the warp drive to get home, we can travel at 1.37C, which means that it would take us just about three years to get back." Everybody in the small ship sobered instantly; they didn't have nearly enough food, water, or most importantly of all, breathable air to last near that long. "Which means," he said finally, "that if we do that, our frozen corpses will beat our distress signal home."

Dr. Baxter gave a mournful groan. Colonel Ghellar merely shook his head and clamped on his helmet. "Just move it, Sanchez."

While Ghellar and Sanchez worked outside the ship to repair the drive systems, Quinn set to helping Dr. Baxter take readings and cross-spectrum photographs of Alpha Centauri A, Alpha Centauri B, and Proxima Centauri.

Dr. Baxter sighed. "No planets that might support life," he said, "but I suppose we might have guessed that."

Lt. Cmdr. Quinn nudged the doctor with her elbow. "How can you be disappointed? _We're orbiting a distant star_. Two years ago we couldn't go to Mars, and now we're hanging out next to Proxima Centauri! We made it - humans can leave the solar system!"

"Oh, I know we've made it out here," said Dr. Baxter, "and I truly appreciate how momentous this is. What worries me is making it back alive."

The dashboard blinked, and Quinn noticed the gravimetric dial going haywire. The ship's warp drive was able to keep artificial gravity steady at a comfortable 1 G, even when maintaining top speed, so there was no internal reason for the fluctuation. "What the f...?"

"Holy Mother of God!" said Cmdr. Sanchez over the radio. _"Space invaders!"_

Quinn and Baxter looked out the front viewport and saw an enormous, two-mile-wide blue funnel appear. "My word," said Baxter. "That looks like an extreme asymptotic spacetime singularity!"

"A what?" asked Colonel Ghellar.

"A wormhole," clarified Quinn. "A huge-ass, God-damn wormhole!"

"Wormhole, nothing," said Sanchez, "look at that huge-ass, God-damn ship!"

Baxter was turning pale again. "It's got to be... a mile wide, and twice as long!"

"That's... big," said Ghellar.

"Uh, Colonel," said Quinn. "It's... coming right at us."

* * *

**Chapter 2: Welcome to Earth**

"Alpha Centauri," explained Crichton, once the _Farscape_ module had returned to the _Gymettion's_ docking bay. "The star system nearest Earth's. We're only a couple arns away, but that's far enough that anything coming out of the wormhole will be spotted by this ship's sensors with plenty of time to spare."

"Don't you think you're being a bit too cautious?" asked Jool.

John counted off his replies on his fingers. "Scorpy, skreeths, scarrans... nope."

Aeryn had been present for both of the times that John had been forced to leave his home to protect it, first when the killed the skreeth, and then again when they "popped the bubble" on the scarran Stryker. "I agree with John," said Aeryn. "There's no point in taking chances, not with Earth still mostly defenseless." The _Gymettion_ , worthy ship though it was, was still only a single, beat-up, ancient Command Carrier, no match for even one scarran Dreadnaught.

"I guess I see where you're coming from," said Jack, "but that means that this carrier is the only ship we have that can make it back to the wormhole. There were some designs on IASA's drawing board when we left the last time, but nothing that-"

The comms unit beeped an interruption. "What is it?" said Aeryn.

"Captain, sensors have discovered another ship in the system. It's about the size of a Marauder, and markings match Commander Crichton's module. There are two human life signs on board, and two more extra-vehicular."

"Acknowledged," said Aeryn. "Tell engineering to bring the ship to a full stop, and have comms open a radio channel on standard frequency." With a wry half-smile, she asked Jack, "What were you saying about designs on the drawing board?"

"Exactly that," said Jack. "Ideas. Pictures. Stuff that should have taken us ten or twenty cycles to build, not two."

"We didn't get shot into future, did we?" asked Aeryn.

John shook his head. "I'm pretty sure this wormhole was spot-on. If they answer that channel, better ask and make sure that it's 2006... or is it 2007?"

"I'm pretty sure it's still 2006, Son," said Jack. "I'd have noticed if we missed another Christmas."

"We'll take your word for it," said Aeryn.

* * *

"Oh, thank God," breathed Dr. Baxter from the co-pilot's chair. "It's stopping."

"Yeah," said Cmdr. Sanchez, "but now it's just... sitting there. Like, it's _looking_ at us or something."

"All right, that's it," said Col. Ghellar. "Get inside. We can fix the StarDrive later. Right now, we should get ready to buckle up and blast the hell outta here."

"I'm with the colonel," said Baxter.

Lt. Cmdr. Quinn hadn't said anything, because she had been carefully monitoring radio frequencies. There was nothing but dead static so far, but if she sent a signal, they might answer. "Colonel, should I try and make contact?"

"And say what, exactly?" asked Col. Ghellar.

Sanchez suggested, "How about, 'Don't shoot us; we're pathetic?'"

"Nobody would _ever_ say that," admonished Quinn. She picked a frequency that felt good, activated the transmitter, and said, " _Farscape 3_ to alien vessel, please acknowledge this transmission."

The humans were blown over when a voice answered, in perfect English, "Did she say _Farscape 3_? I should sue somebody!"

Another voice, this one female, snapped back in a language that sounded like it was all vowels, glides, and glottal plosives – there was hardly a recognizable consonant at all, except when she sharply pronounced the name "John." The voice suddenly switched to English and said, "This is Captain Aeryn Sun..." there was a pause, and then she quickly amended, "...Crichton, of the Peacekeeper Command Carrier _Gymettion. Farscape 3_ , do you require assistance?" When nobody replied, she simply tried again. "Repeat, this is Aeryn Sun Crichton, Captain of the P.K.S. _Gymettion. Farscape 3_ , we've noticed that two of your people have gone EV. Do you require assistance?"

Quinn eventually found her head and pressed the transmitter again. "Uh... yes, actually, our drive broke down and the power conduits need replaced. Was that Commander John Crichton I heard before?"

"It sure was," said Crichton. "Hey, can I ask you something..."

"Lt. Cmdr. Hailey Quinn."

"Right. Commander, could you tell me the date?"

"The... huh? Oh, it's, um, December 1st, 2006."

"What day of the week?" asked Crichton.

"Friday."

Quinn heard a sigh come over the comms at her answer. "Can you believe it? We missed Thanksgiving by _one day_! Sometimes, we just have all the luck..."

In the background, Crichton continued to vent his self-pity. Aeryn pushed him away from her comms unit and said, " _Farscape 3_ , we're going to bring you aboard with our docking web. Just sit tight; this won't take long."

* * *

Crichton gave a cursory look over the four humans who exited the _Farscape 3_ \- three American and one British, according to the patches on their flight-suits, he noted - and turned his attention back to the amazing sight of the latest in cutting-edge human aerospace technology.

"What did you say was wrong with the drive again?" he asked.

"Fried power conduits," said Colonel Ghellar.

One of the techs that Aeryn had called down to look over the ship stood up and held his datapad out to her. "This is strange," he said. "All our scans indicate that their hetch drive, primitive as it is, is in perfect working order - and that with a design like theirs, its top speed is barely hetch 1."

"What did he say?" asked the colonel.

Aeryn glanced at John, noting his surprised reaction to the tech's assessment, and said, "He says that your hetch drive isn't broken."

"True enough," said Lt. Cmdr. Quinn. "It's the StarDrive that's on the fritz."

"StarDrive?" said John and Aeryn together.

Quinn nodded. She was an engineer, and loved explaining things like this. "You see these couplings here? They lead straight to a fission reactor that powers the StarDrive chamber here," she traced along the power conduits and pointed to the bulky rear-end of the ship, "which can open a slipstream to hyperspace when it builds sufficient power, just like a leviathan."

Aeryn was stunned, and Crichton was thrilled. Beaming, John nearly shouted, "You mean this thing can _StarBurst_?!"

"Whoa, nothing gets by you," grinned Cmdr. Sanchez.

" _That's_ how you got out here?" asked Aeryn. "Humans built a StarBurst engine?"

"Pretty much," said Quinn. "It seemed better suited to our technology. We just couldn't figure out how to the get the warp drive to go-"

"Excuse me?" said Crichton. Quinn noticed the blank looks on the faces of all the aliens in the room (which amounted to Aeryn and a couple of techs).

"Sorry. Warp drive, that's the human word for a hetch drive. We figure, the thing _does_ warp spacetime around a ship, so it isn't too far off the mark."

"I'm just surprised that you don't call the StarBurst chamber a hyperdrive," said Crichton. "What's the deal with that? Was it designed by a bunch of losers with some kind of grudge against George Lucas?"

"Three words," said Sanchez. "'Greedo fires first.'"

"Gotcha," said Crichton. The bewildered look on Aeryn's face was priceless; he hadn't seen her that confused by an Earth-reference in way too long.

* * *

The senior staff assembled on the bridge, along with John, Aeryn, and Hope; Jack and Jool; and the crew of the _Farscape 3_. The Command Carrier was within the orbit of Neptune now, and quickly approaching Earth.

"This is Captain Aeryn Sun Crichton, aboard the Peacekeeper Command Carrier _Gymettion_ ," announced Aeryn over a broad range of frequencies. "Please come in, IASA Control. Repeat, this is Captain Aeryn-" She stopped in mid-sentence when the carrier slowed to a stop, just a few thousand metras from Earth. In orbit was the skeleton of a ship, docked to an orbital space station. It was perhaps half the size of Moya, dwarfed by the great Command Carrier, but she was surprised to see it just the same.

"That's the U.S.S. _Athena_ ," said Dr. Baxter, "and the Crichton International Space Station. The _Farscape 3_ was launched from there."

"They named the station after me?" asked John.

"After you and your father," said Colonel Ghellar.

"I'm old, Son, not dead," quipped Jack.

Everyone on the bridge had a good laugh at John's expense, prompting him to quickly change the subject. "How did they get that thing into space so fast?"

"The warp drive," explained Quinn. "As soon as we figured it out, launching materiel into space was easy and inexpensive. Having a space station up and running made things that much quicker. It's still going to be a few years before the _Athena_ is finished, but I've heard that many of her systems are already online."

"They actually added weapons as soon as they could," said Col. Ghellar. "We wanted to have some decent planetary defenses in place, just in case... but I guess this carrier could blow it out of the sky without looking twice."

"Yes it could, old though it is," said Aeryn. "Be grateful it's here precisely for the purpose of defending Earth, just in case."

The comms gave another ring. "Captain!" shouted a tech on tactical watch. "That ship - it's targeting weapons!"

Aeryn acted quickly, in spite of the pandemonium that broke out on the bridge. "Earth space station, order that ship to stand down its weapons! This is Aeryn Sun - I have John and Jack Crichton aboard, and the crew of the _Farscape 3_! Stand down your weapons!"

Tactical commed the bridge once again. "Captain, they have a missile lock. Shall I raise the defense screen?"

"Do it," said Aeryn. "Can you try and talk them down?" she asked John.

"Let me try," said Jack. He took the mike and shouted, "This is Colonel Jack Crichton! Whoever's listening to this, you'd better get off your asses and stand down those missiles, or there'll be hell to pay when I make sure that _the President himself orders your court-martials_!"

"Technically, it's 'courts-martial,' Dad. It's French, ya know."

"You know," whispered Aeryn, "we never did get around to..."

"I know," John whispered back. "We'll talk after the Sebacean Missile Crisis."

It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath until the sensor tech commed the bridge again. "Captain, the weapons lock has been cancelled. We're receiving a transmission from the surface."

The occupants of the bridge (the _Farscape 3_ crew in particular) breathed heavy sighs of relief. The comms came on, but the voice they heard wasn't at all what they were expecting. Jack Crichton was floored in particular. "This _is_ the President himself... it's good to hear your voice, Jack, but I'm afraid can't guarantee any court-martials." (Jack heard John whisper "courts-martial" under his breath again.) "So, we'll have to celebrate your return to Earth some other way. How does a belated Thanksgiving dinner at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue sound?"

John's eyes lit up and pulled Aeryn into his arms, kissing her in front of everyone.

Jack coughed and said, "Um, yes, Sir, that... that sounds like just what the doctor ordered."

"Glad to hear it," said the President. "When will you be on the ground?"

Jack looked to Aeryn, but she was left breathless by John's sudden smooch. "Uh, I think we can be at Canaveral in less than an ar-hour."

"In that case, Air Force One will be there to meet you. See you later, Jack - and tell the captain of that ship that I apologize for the missile lock. I'll have to have a frank chat with my special advisor about that..."

"Holt," whispered John. "I should'a guessed."

"Oh, frell," muttered Aeryn.

"Oh, no-no... Sweetie, we're on Earth now," said John. "The appropriate expression is, 'oh, fuck.'"

"Welcome to Earth," said Commander Sanchez.

* * *

**Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Home**

Crichton lay sprawled on the recliner, stains of varied origin decorating his t-shirt and bluejeans. The big-screen TV was the only object providing the room with illumination, but the light seemed to miss John Crichton's glassy eyes. It must have been 2:00 AM; there was nothing on but infomercials.

Half-eaten pizza boxes, empty cartons of Chinese food, and a dazzling array of beer bottles and soda cans were stacked haphazardly around the easy-chair. Generous stubble and more than a little drool covered Crichton's chin. Crichton's thumb found the right button on the remote, and he changed the channel again.

Aeryn appeared in the doorway, wearing her black leather Peacekeeper coat. One arm was holding a bulging suitcase, and the other propped up a sleeping Hope. The two-year old girl was also wearing a black leather duster. _Funny_ , thought John, _Aeryn hasn't worn that stuff in a long time. And I'm pretty sure that Hope doesn't have a coat like that._

"I just can't take this anymore, John."

From the sound of Aeryn's voice, John judged that she must have been crying. He didn't look at her.

"Fine. Don't look at me. All you do all day is stare at that frelling box... why should now be any different?"

Crichton's eyes seemed to glaze over, reflecting the flickering light of the TV screen.

Aeryn's hand drifted down to her mid-section, directing John's attention to the small bulge in her belly, still early in pregnancy.

"It's just as well, I suppose. Rygel deserves to know the truth about this baby. Goodbye, John."

The door slammed. Aeryn was gone. Hope was gone.

Crichton changed the channel.

* * *

Ka D'Argo, luxan warrior, general of the Alliance forces, was wearing coveralls and a paisley shirt. A straw hat shaded his eyes from the overhead sun, while he carefully emptied a watering can over the flowers in the garden.

D'Argo seemed to be startled by the camera, but then he put down the watering can and turned to face it. "Hi! I'm D'Argo, and I'd like to talk to you about a serious problem facing many people, who might not even know it.

"Do you have a problem with rage? Do you let uncontrolled anger drive away your loved ones? I did. Then, I started taking Ozoft."

The scene changed, showing D'Argo frolicking in fields of wildflowers, while his voice continued to narrate. "Ozoft is a new FDA-approved medication with side effects that are similar to food cubes."

D'Argo picked a daisy and sniffed it, causing him to sneeze, before he continued. "If you or someone you love has a problem with rage, don't wait. Call 1-800-555-OZME today. Take back your life."

The camera panned out and showed a picture of the pill, while in the background, a bee landed on D'Argo's nose and stung him. In a sudden fit of shrieking hyper-rage, D'Argo raised up the watering can and smashed the bee repeatedly, howling and convulsing. While this was going on, a soft-spoken anouncer was saying, "Ozoft is a prescription drug only, so ask your doctor. Do not take Ozoft if you are pregnant or suffer from a heart condition. Side-effects may include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and impotence. Ozoft has been known to cause cancer in certain highly-evolved, rat-like lab animals..."

The channel changed again.

* * *

A busy kitchen bustled with noise, chefs working and waiters rushing every which way. One of the waiters pushed through the swinging double-doors and came out into the diner, where he stopped at a table to wait on a customer. "Hi, welcome to Dominar's. May I take your order?"

The customer turned to face the camera, revealing green skin, white moustaches, and a wide, froggy mouth. A subtitle on the bottom of the screen read, _Dominar Rygel XVI, founder of Dominar's_. "Yes you may, young man. I'll have the buffet."

"For how many?"

"No, I mean I'll have the _whole_ buffet, brought here."

The waiter smiled. "Yes, Sir!"

Rygel rose up on his hover-sled and said, "That's right, snappy service with a smile is what you'll get at Dominar's. And do you want to talk about portions? We serve more food in one sitting than any other grill & buffet on the planet! If you want to eat and crap thrice your body weight, I say, go ahead!"

Rygel hovered to the counter, put on a chef's hat, and hoisted a platter over his head. On the wall behind him, there was a logo that displayed the word "Dominar's" in neon lights, and showed a Cartoon of Rygel, also with a chef's hat and platter.

"So come on down to Dominar's!" said Rygel. "Dominar's: _'Them's good eatin's!'_ "

The scene changed to show a map of interstate highways. "Dominar's Grill & Buffet. Just take I-80 off the Expressway, until you come to the turnpike. If you see Natira's Crab Shack, you've gone too far..."

The TV showed static briefly as the channel changed.

* * *

Stark put the legal volume back on the bookshelf, straightened his mask and his necktie, and stepped forward. "Have you been injured in a car accident? Don't just believe what the insurance companies tell you. We here and the law firm of Myside, Yourside, & Myside want you to know that you have rights-"

Crichton changed the channel _quickly._

* * *

Chiana, wearing nothing but a skimpy string bikini, vamped and posed while photographers madly jumped this way and that, shouting instructions and snapping pictures. The flashbulbs stopped and Chiana stood up, oozing her way towards they camera. The photographers quickly cleared out of the apartment.

"Hey there," she said in a breathy, sultry voice. "Lonely? Do you need female companionship? Male? Or some other gender? Most of our girls, guys, and miscellaneous are sentient... or at least organic! Just call 1-900-ETTRALK if you're lookin' for a little love tonight..."

* * *

Jool, wearing a conservative women's business suit and black-rimmed glasses, smiled wide and said, "Do you want to make more money? Sure. We all do. Here at the Interion Technical Institute, you can start a new career by taking one of our many courses. ITI offers classes in: starship piloting, amnexis replacement, snurching, dominating lesser races, invasive mental torture, and TV/VCR repair... or, get your degree! Our classrooms are a fun and informative learning-environment. Take a look!"

The scene now showed Jool at the head of rowdy classroom, while students of various ages chatted, tossed bits of paper, and generally failed to pay attention. "Class..." said Jool, tapping a ruler on the desk. " _Class..._ _ **Class... SHUUUT UUUUUUPPP!**_ she finally shrieked. The students were instantly silent, gaping at all the metal objects that had suddenly started melting in the room. "Thank you," said Jool sweetly.

* * *

A man stumbled out of the dentist's office, whimpering in pain and holding his hand to his cheek. Sikozu appeared in the doorway, her red hair grown long, wearing a tight-fitting nurse's outfit that was almost naughty. "Next?"

The men, women, and children in the waiting room were paralyzed with fear, and didn't move.

Sizoku pointed to a young blonde woman who bore a striking resemblance to Gilina Renaez. "You," she said. Two armored Peacekeepers appeared, picked her up by the elbows, and dragged her, kicking and screaming, through the back doors and into the dentist's office. They roughly strapped her to the chair, while Sikozu brought out a tank and gas mask and proceeded to drug Gilina into submission.

Scorpius, wearing his old coolant-suit under a white dentist's coat, stepped into view. "Greetings. I am Dr. Scorpius. No, I know what you're thinking," he chuckled, "but I'm not a Bond-villain, I'm a dentist! A dentist who _cares_."

He turned to Gilina and said, "Open." She groaned, and Scorpius quickly grabbed her mouth, holding it open by squeezing the cheeks. "Hmm... it would seem that you have gingivitis, tooth-decay, and several cavities! I'm afraid we're going to have to drill. Nurse, get the Aurora 12mm!"

Sikozu produced a drill that was twice the size of most pulse rifles. The scene switched to the waiting room, where the other patients cringed and sobbed to the sound of Gilina's terrifying screams.

The view returned to Scorpius, who pitched the bloody drill into a random corner of the room and instructed, "Now, rinse and spit." He then faced the camera, flashed his pearly-yellows, and shouted, " _Next?_ "

* * *

Commandant Grayza gazed intensely at Crichton from the TV screen. She gently rested her hand upon her chest and said, "It's 3:00 AM. Do you know where your children are?"

* * *

" _AAARRRGGGHHH!_ " Crichton sat up in bed, screaming. Sweat plastered the sheets to his body. Then he realized where he was... they had only been on Earth for two weeks; their house was still mostly empty, with their possessions in unpacked boxes stacked in the next room. He was in his own bed, and Aeryn was lying next to him.

"John?" she asked, rolling over and sitting up. "What's the matter? It must be 22nd arn... I mean, 3:00 in the morning."

"I just had... a _terrible_ nightmare."

"What was it? Scorpius? Grayza?"

"Both," said John. "And... you left. Please, tell me you'll never-"

"Of course not!" she cried, pulling John into her arms. "I promised when we were married. _I will never leave you, John Crichton_. So you can stop having nightmares about that." She smiled weakly and shook her head. "It must be all the Earth food... I swear, we've been back for two whole 'weeks,' but you still try to eat the whole fucking planet at every meal! It's not good for you."

John raised an eyebrow at the expletive. Aeryn had quickly warmed up to human curse-words, at first for the novelty of having new swears, and then because she realized (just as John had, in the Uncharted Territories) that if you wanted the locals to know you were cursing, you had to use the local curses. John had known Aeryn for six cycles, but it wasn't until these last two weeks that he noticed something: his wife had a mouth like a sailor... or, at the very least, like a commando-trained fighter-pilot.

"I'm sorry, Aeryn... it's just that it's been a while. I'll try to hold myself back."

"Good. You need your sleep. When you don't get it, you can be disagreeable."

"How am I disagreeable?" asked Crichton incredulously.

"When you don't get any sleep, you're more sarcastic, and your sense of humor becomes... warped. Even humans probably wouldn't understand it. You act... I believe the human word is 'snarky.'"

"'Snarky?' That's not a word, it's a name for a dolphin."

"There, that's exactly what I mean! Go to sleep, John."

Aeryn turned over and laid down again, but John grinned and leaned on one elbow. He brushed Aeryn's hair out of the way and gently kissed the back of her neck. "Now, Aeryn, you know whose fault it is when I stay up all night..."

"Yes. Yours." Aeryn felt a shiver run down her spine. "Um... ours?"

"Close enough," said John, while Aeryn turned around and kissed him.

Just then, a tiny voice at the foot of the bed said, "Daddy, up?"

John and Aeryn broke apart and saw Hope, trying futilely to climb onto the bed.

"She must have heard you cry out," said Aeryn.

John nodded, rolled forward, and lifted Hope onto the bed. "Mommy and Daddy okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, Pun'kin, we're okay," said John.

That seemed to placate the little girl. Without another word, she kissed her father and her mother and then nestled between them and quickly fell asleep.

"Some other night," said Aeryn in consolation.

"At this rate," said John, "the little squirt here'll never have a little brother or sister."

Aeryn didn't say anything.

"Aeryn?"

"Yes, John?"

"Good night."

"Good night, John." Aeryn rolled over onto her side and drifted off to sleep, wondering whether what Zhaan had said was true. John deserved to know for sure, without having his hopes raised and then dashed. Her last thought, before she finally succumbed to sleep, was that tomorrow she ought to return to the Command Carrier and see a medtech. That way she would know for sure.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Earth, Plus Sunshine**

"Good morning, Sunshine." John turned over in bed and felt the spot beside him. Nothing... "Aeryn?" He opened his eyes. Nobody there...

John was up in seconds. He crossed over to Aeryn's side of the bed and opened the drawer in her nightstand. Her pulse pistol was gone. She never went anywhere without it.

Growing nervous, John threw on a robe and ran down the hall. The door to Hope's bedroom was opened slightly, a crack of sunlight shining through. The door squeeked a little as he pushed it open... Hope's bed was empty.

John shook his head. _But... it was only dream_. He fought the urge to panic and rushed down the stairs. The house was empty; he checked every room, but nobody was here.

It was then that Crichton spotted a piece of paper on the kitchen table. He picked it up, and opened it. A short note, scrawled in Sebacean, read:  
 _John: Got up early to run some errands. Took Hope with me. We'll be back this afternoon, before the party. Don't forget to pick up Jack and your sisters at the airport, after you finish unpacking. -Love, Aeryn._  
John smiled with relief and thought to himself, _Aeryn's right. No more whole pizzas with everything, especially after dinner._  
The house that the young Crichton family had rented was set on a little spot of beach-front property in southern Florida, in close proximity to both Jack Crichton's home and the IASA headquarters. They planned to stay there for as long as the weather remained cool, which wasn't a problem right now, it being the middle of December. When spring rolled around, they would probably head up north, if not straight back up into space, and make their temporary summer home at the old cabin in Maine where John and his father spent so many seasons fishing by Sawyer's Mill. Aeryn, John well knew, wouldn't be able to stand a Florida summer, and as for Hope, he wasn't about to take chances.

John had persuaded Aeryn to help him throw a housewarming party this evening. An important Earth tradition, he called it. Human nonsense, she called it. "Housewarming" was what the heating unit in the basement was for. It was that remark that let John knew he was being made fun of... yet again. In any case, his father was due to arrive back from New York this afternoon, after having addressed the United Nations, and Olivia and the Colemans had scheduled their flights to coincide with Jack's. They were supposed to get together and break in the new home by putting up Christmas decorations.

John opened a box containing some of the random stuff that he had accumulated in the Uncharted Territories. Most of the house's furnishings had been purchased when they arrived on Earth; the objects in need of unpacking were the possessions they had collected in space. As John rummaged through the various decorative trinkets and bits of interesting technology, a tiny thought crossed his mind. _If we're supposed to hang decorations tonight, shouldn't I run out and get a tree... and, like, some decorations?_ Smacking himself on the forehead for not remembering that sooner, it took John less than a minute to grab his jacket and the keys to his '62 T-Bird and rush out the front door.

* * *

The Marauder set down at the airfield outside of town, and Aeryn and Hope came down the ramp. Aeryn was wearing altogether normal-looking bluejeans and a leather jacket, and Hope, in her toddler's overalls and pink sweater, looked like any other two-year-old little girl. A limousine pulled up just as the Marauder was taking off again, and a Secret Service agent held the door open for Aeryn.

"Where to, Captain Crichton?" asked the driver when Aeryn and Hope had climbed in.

"You can drop us off at the grocery market in town," said Aeryn. "We'll be fine walking from there."

The driver nodded, rolled up the glass between the front and back of the limo, and pulled away from the airstrip.

In the back seat of the automobile, Aeryn smiled softly to herself and held Hope close. She and John would have to talk tonight.

* * *

Aeryn strolled down the street with a bag of groceries, while Hope bounced along at her side. Aeryn was wearing dark sunglasses now; as silly as she had once thought the idea, they made her feel better. Fewer people seemed to recognize her as "Aeryn Sun, soldier from an alien army" when she wore sunglasses (or for that matter, when she went grocery-shopping with her two-year-old daughter).

They turned a corner and walked another couple of blocks, stopping in front of the bank. "Come on, Hope. We'll just be in here for a moment."

When the Command Carrier _Gymettion_ had been officially placed at the disposal of IASA, that also put its crew on the government's payroll. The sebacean and delvian techs and soldiers were presently engaged in training humans to use Peacekeeper technology. These humans were mostly airmen and engineers from the United States, Britain, Russia, and China, as well as Germany and Japan, who volunteered to serve on the carrier. As for Aeryn, she retained the office of Command Carrier captain, a position she intended to keep for at least the next few months...

Hope reached up and held her mother's hand while they waited in the teller line. She had lived practically her whole life aboard Moya, surrounded by a small, loving family. Her parents rarely brought her with them down to planets, simply because it was a dangerous thing to do in the Uncharted Territories. Now, on a quiet and out-of-the-way little planet where it was relatively safe, Hope was suddenly surrounded by the noises of people, rather than those of a starship. Whenever she was out in public, she would grow very quiet and curiously take in every detail of this new world around her.

When three men in black ski-masks appeared in the doorway and fired a gunshot into the ceiling, Hope didn't react. There were a few other children in the bank, most of whom started crying and clung to their parents. Hope just squeezed Aeryn's hand tighter.

Aeryn, thinking fast, dropped the grocery sack and snatched up Hope, diving for a nearby desk. She heard one of the men shout, "Everybody, on the ground! You - hands in the air! If I see somebody go for an alarm, we start shooting!"

Aeryn peeked around the desk. Another man was unfolding cloth bags and tossing them to the tellers, along with commands to fill them with cash. She quickly sized up the situation: one of the men had a pistol, while the other two had shotguns. They spoke and acted like desperate men, not like trained soldiers. Their movements were those of amateurs.

Ducking back under the desk, Aeryn placed her hands on Hope's arms and whispered, "Hope, I need you to listen to me. I need you to stay here, lay down, and not make a sound. Can you do that?"

Hope nodded. Aeryn drew her pulse pistol from behind her back, where it had been tucked in the waistband of her jeans. Hope whispered, "Mommy...?"

Aeryn just placed a finger over her lips and said, "Shh. Stay here, baby."

Aeryn raised the pistol and peeked over the desk again. Two of the men were still intimidating the bank clerks and collecting bags of currency. The third was patrolling back and forth, watching over the customers who were all kneeling on the floor. Aeryn lowered the power setting on her pistol, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger once. The pistol wined softly, and sparks exploded from the chest of the bank-robber, who fell to the ground unconscious.

The other shotgun-toting robber whirled around, just as Aeryn was diving behind another desk. She turned the desk on its end for better cover, and just in time, because a blast of buckshot came flying her way and set splinters in every direction. Aeryn leapt up and fired another two shots, and the second thief dropped.

The remaining robber dropped the sack of bills he had been holding, and held his pistol in both hands. He and Aeryn trained their weapons on each other at the same instant. Neither fired.

"Well, well," said the thief. "A reg'lar Mexican standoff."

"You're no match for me," said Aeryn. "You might as well just fall down now." She wanted to keep him talking and off-balance, while she waited for an opening to end the standoff.

"I don't think so. I could be the better shot..."

"Somehow, I doubt it." Ever so slowly, Aeryn let one hand off her pistol and used it to remove her sunglasses.

It took the bank-robber a couple of seconds to recognize her face, but when he did, his eyes widened. "The... the-"

That was Aeryn's opening. "The alien?" she asked with a smile. She fired her pulse gun and dropped the final thief.

Ignoring the stares and pointing fingers of the humans in the bank, Aeryn tucked her gun away and ran to make sure Hope was still safe.

* * *

The sheriff's car pulled up to the bank with its lights on and its siren wailing. There were already a number of police cars there; no doubt the local cops were rounding up the perps and taking statements. Sheriff Robert Shelmacher exited the car and took a deep breath. Yes sir, it was good to be back on the job again. All he had had to do was say what _they_ wanted to hear on the psych-evaluations, and wham, bam, thank you ma'am, sheriff again. Once sheriff, always sheriff. No sir, no alien would run him out of _his_ job, never again.

With all the confidence of a man on top of the world, he strode into the bank. "What've we got here, Sergeant?"

A uniformed officer answered, "It looks like three punks tried to hold up the place; not much we had to do, though. One of the civs took all three of 'em out before we got here."

"A civilian? Where?"

The police sergeant pointed to a dark-haired woman who was kneeling on the ground in the middle of bank. The sheriff went over for a closer look and saw that she was picking up the remains of a sack of groceries, alongside a little girl who was probably her daughter.

"Ma'am," said the sheriff, "I'd like to ask you a few-" He froze when she looked up. It was none other than Aeryn Sun, one of the aliens. "You!" he growled.

Aeryn looked up and saw a face that she hadn't seen since... technically, not since 1985, even though it had only been a couple of cycles from her perspective. "You!"

* * *

Frank and Susan had rented a car at the airport, but Bobby had chosen ride back to town with Jack and Livvy in John's T-Bird. The four of them having piled into the sportscar, John gunned the engine and sped off towards his new home.

It was late afternoon when they arrived, the Colemans' car following behind Crichton's. Bobby was amazed that "Grandpa Jack" had been in outer space and lived on the other side of the wormhole for over a year. He spent the entire trip on the edge of his seat, pressing Jack for stories, and Jack obliged with a few of the milder incidents he had been through on various planets. Now, Livvy was asking her father how his trip to New York had gone, and John had a vested interest in that as well.

"It's hard," said Jack, as they went in the front door, "making people understand what we've seen out there. It's not that they don't believe; it's that they don't trust."

"They don't trust you?" asked Livvy.

"No," said John. "It's just that half the people that Dad was sent out there to represent don't trust _Americans_."

"I can't even convince the leaders of the world that I wasn't playing favorites," said Jack, "and with Holt, the Vice President, and their cronies trying to convince me to do exactly that... it's just hard."

"Well my suggestion," said Olivia, "is to forget about it until after Christmas."

"Amen to that," said Susan, coming inside behind them.

"Hey," said Bobby, "where's Aunt Aeryn?" Bobby was fairly sure that he had the single coolest aunt in the universe.

The rest of the house was still empty. "Huh," said John to himself. "That's strange. They should've been back by now." He ran upstairs and pulled out his comms link, which bounced its signal off the Command Carrier so that he could talk to Aeryn no matter where she was on the planet. "Hey, Aeryn? Are you there

* * *

"John? Where have you been? I've been trying to comm you for arns!"

"I didn't have my comms. Where are you?"

"The sheriff's office."

"What? What happened?"

"A... it's a long story. Can you just come here and pick us up?"

"I'm on my way. Are you okay? Is Hope?"

"We're both fine. Just tired. We've been here for a while... Hope is falling asleep in my arms."

"Hang on. I'll be right there."

* * *

Crichton pulled up to the sheriff's office and leapt out of the car, raced up the stairs, and burst through the doors. A deputy at the front desk recognized him immediately. "Commander Crichton! Over here."

John said, "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Earlier this morning, your wife was involved in a disturbance downtown. She was present during a bank robbery, and she shot the three thieves with some kinda' laser pistol. Two of 'em are in the hospital; the other one's in custody."

"So what's she doing here?"

"The police had her down at the station to give her statement, but Sheriff Shelmacher wanted to bring her here for further questioning." The deputy shook his head and lowered his voice. "The sheriff made up some charge about reckless endangerment and firearm possession, and he's been interrogating her for about two hours now. I think he's gone off the deep end again..."

John noticed that the deputy was nodding towards a door with opaque glass on the far side of the office. John presumed that to be the interrogation room. "Is my daughter in there too?"

"Mrs. Crichton wouldn't let her out of her sight."

"Right. Thanks." Without another word, John headed straight for that door and threw it open.

Aeryn was seated at a small table in the middle of the room, with Hope fast asleep on her lap. She looked exhausted and more than a little annoyed. The sheriff, sitting across from Aeryn, turned around in his chair saying, "Dammit, Dave, I told you not to let anyone dis- oh. Commander Crichton, come on in. I've been waiting for you ever since you spoke with your wife over that little _Star Trek_ badge."

John wanted to rush across the room and take Aeryn and Hope in his arms, but he froze when he saw the sheriff. John hadn't seen Robert Shelmacher's face since he had watched the man spout conspiracy theories on R. Wilson Monroe's "Alien Visitation" documentary. "Hey, wait a minute," said John. "Weren't you fired... and insane?"

The sheriff glared at Crichton. "Fired, yes, but insane? Not according to Ms. Ripley here. Why don't you have a seat, Commander?"

"I don't think so. Come on, Aeryn. We're leaving."

"You can't just walk out of here, Crichton! I have-"

John darted forward and snatched the sheriff's shirt collar. "-About fifteen minutes before the media gets wind of this. Then you'll be dropped back in a psych ward so fast, you won't even have time to go crazier!"

Aeryn stood up and placed a hand on John's shoulder. "John, calm down."

"Why should I, Aeryn? Let me ask you this: did he even ask you one question about what happened this morning, or was he holding you here to grill you on what happened in 1985?"

"1985. But to be fair, we _were_ here in the past, and you do owe him an explanation."

John shot one look at the sheriff and said, "He doesn't deserve one."

Sheriff Shelmacher snorted. "Oh, right. Like I'd buy whatever explanation you had!"

Rolling his eyes, John released his grip on the sheriff and asked, "I'll bet you still think that aliens are trying to conquer the Earth with fatty foods?"

"It makes sense!" he shouted. "And parking that battleship in orbit only proves it!"

"There ya go," said John to Aeryn. "He's nuts. Bananas. Loony tunes. Out to lunch. Magra-fharbot. A few doughnuts shy of a dozen. Bats in the belfry. Termites in the attic. A leak in the think-tank. The elevator doesn't go all the way to the penthouse-"

"But you, Commander!" interrupted the sheriff, ignoring Crichton's euphemisms. "How could you do this to your own people? My God, the _Challenger_ shuttle-"

"Come on, Aeryn. Let's get out of here."

Too fatigued to say anything, Aeryn only nodded. John took Hope into his arms and let Aeryn lean on him as she stood. The sheriff just stared, and John could see that this man really was blind to the fact that he was looking at a family, and nothing else. But he could let that go.

"It's okay, Commander. I believe now that it wasn't your fault. After all, they did put a chip in your brain."

John froze in his tracks. A flashback of Scorpius, standing over him with the neurochip on the diagnosan's planet, drifted across his mind. "What did you say?"

"The aliens must have put a chip in _your_ brain first. How else could you _marry_ one, let alone have a kid-"

There was a limit to how much Crichton could ignore. He turned around slowly, prepared to deck the sheriff with his best right hook... but he was too slow. Aeryn's Pantak jab laid the sheriff low in the blink of an eye. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

"I have some idea," said John. "This was a cosmic frelling waste of time. If we don't get home, we'll miss our own party."

* * *

Having Hope tucked safely into bed and a steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand did a lot to improve Aeryn's mood. John had calmed down quite a bit, now that he, Jack, and Frank were putting up wreaths and Christmas lights on the outside of the house. Bobby was helping Olivia and Susan hang ornaments on the fir tree that John had set up that morning. _This_ was what Aeryn liked about Earth.

The men had just finished hanging the last string of lights, when a government car pulled up to the house, and Jool got out. She came up the front walk and hugged John and Jack warmly, and was then introduced to John's brother-in-law. They went inside, and Jool got to meet Olivia, Susan, and Bobby as well (giving John's nephew yet another alien to idolize).

"So, Jool," asked John once everything had settled down, "how's academia on Earth treating you?"

"Surprisingly well," said Jool. "I was actually impressed by the state of learning on your planet. Your world has a structure to its colleges and universities, similar to what we have on Inter. Not at all what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?" asked Jack. "Sticks and cave paintings?"

"No," said Jool, "but it's funny that you should mention that. I've been looking at a variety of ancient paintings and texts, looking for something that might link our three races in the ancient past, and I've already made some intriguing findings... I can't really go into details here, but I believe I'm on the right track."

"So, you believe that there really is a link between our species?" asked Aeryn.

"More than a link," said Jool. "I think there's a genetic relationship. Common ancestry. I need to do more research, though. I've arranged a trip to Egypt in next few solar days to study some early glyphs that may shed some light on what John found on Arnessk. I was going to ask you both to come along, since I may need help interpreting whatever we find."

"We're not archaeologists, Jool, but I don't see why not..." John's voice trailed off when he noticed Aeryn growing restless in her seat. "Is something wrong, Aeryn?"

"No... but I do need to talk to you. Can we go upstairs for a minute?"

 _Aeryn used Earth time. I wonder what's up._ "Sure." John stood and excused himself before following Aeryn up the stairs and into their bedroom.

* * *

Aeryn sat down and motioned for John to sit beside her. "I have something that I've been waiting to tell you."

"Good news or bad?"

"Very good, I think," said Aeryn. She took a deep breath, and let it out. "I'm pregnant again."

John's eyes lit up, and a beaming grin spread over his face. That was all it took for a no-good, lousy, rotten day to become decidedly good in John Crichton's book. "You're having another baby? When did you find out?"

"For certain? Just this morning. I went up to the command carrier and had a surgeon release the stasis. It... felt right to have it released as soon as I knew."

John couldn't find the words. "This is... it's..."

The gathered friends and family downstairs heard a loud whoop of unadulterated delight, and John and Aeryn came bounding back into the living room, glowing with emotion. "Everybody," said John, "We've got a little announcement to make..."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...  
(But not really. Ever.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is as far as I ever got with this story. The original intention, at this point, was to cross over with "Stargate SG-1" and push the "plot" (loose term, I know) in the direction of an "Indiana Jones" style globetrotting mystery starring Daniel Jackson and Joolushko. There would have been lots of geek-on-geek archaeology action, all the usual crossover clichés, but frankly I just stopped feeling it.
> 
> Never fear, though. The mystery that they would have wound up uncovering will still (eventually) figure into the "Farscape" virtual season that I do intend to carry on with, "Farscape: Unrealized". That's quite a ways down the road, though…


	8. Best & Brightest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a more recent entry, with a dose of silliness. This last piece was written for Terra Firma Scapers' "Stabrurst Challenge" #54 (June 2011), which challenged authors to write some intentional badfic: a Mary Sue fic, a crack-fic, or a gender-bender. I chose crack-fic, which, combined with my particular idiom (Earth-fic and massive multiple crossover) turned into… well, this.

 

Jack Crichton was not a happy camper. Honestly, what was everybody thinking? There was no way in hell that five-hundred egghead scientists, even if they _were_ Earth's best and brightest, would be strapping on a handgun as part of their uniforms. I mean, honestly: had the suits and politicians ever actually _met_ any of these people? Colonel Crichton seriously doubted it.

They were already swarming all over Moya, too, probably annoying the crap out of John and all the aliens. The ex-astronaut shook his head in pity as he walked through the gold-ribbed corridors of the leviathan. Poor John. Poor everybody, really.

* * *

Dr. Temperance Brennan and Dr. Jack Hodgins were like a couple of kids in a candy store. They followed Aeryn Sun into Moya's maintenance bay, and they both just about lost it.

"Whoa-ho-ho!" said Hodgins, eyes wide. "Look at this place! It's huge!" His gaze landed on Aeryn's prowler and he started drooling. "I would love to take that for a spin."

"You may be 'filthy rich' on Earth," sniffed Aeryn, "but there isn't enough money in the universe—

"I believe Dr. Hodgins was merely being facetious," cut in Temperance. "Nevertheless, I concur with his assessment! This whole ship is _very_ impressive!" The grin on her face as she looked around the maintenance bay, observing every detail of the alien ships and tools therein, spoke volumes.

"Impressive," repeated Aeryn, wholly unimpressed. "Well, that can't be hard."

Dr. Brennan's face screwed up with confusion. She looked askance at Aeryn and said, "Please explain what you mean by that. I'm sorry… I'm very intelligent, but I tend to have trouble with sarcasm."

Aeryn just stared at Temperance, open-mouthed.

Temperance took that as an invitation to continue. "As an anthropologist, I'm just as interested in customs as physiology. Do sebaceans use much sarcasm?"

They were both interrupted by a loud clatter from the workbench nearby. Hodgins had been playing with some of the tools, when he'd accidentally activated a wanted-beacon, startling him and causing him to knock several of the tools onto the floor. The glowing red hologram of Scorpius appeared, repeating the message, _"_ _Unprecedented reward… for the capture… of John Crichton…"_

Hodgins looked up at the hologram and shrugged. "That's not very impressive. Angela's is way cooler."

"Dr. Hodgins," said Temperance a little harshly, "maybe you shouldn't be playing with alien technology you don't understand yet."

Hodgins just laughed it off. "Nah. I'm King of the Lab, remember? Aw, man, I wish Zack could've been here to see this…"

* * *

"My name is Michael Westen. I'm a spy. Or at least, I used to be, until they burned me. When you're burned, you've got nothing: no job, no money, no credit. You have to rely on pretty much everybody around you, you know? Old friends, old girlfriends, family if you're desperate…"

"I beg your pardon," said Pilot to the irritating man who reclined so casually on his console, "but are you talking to me?"

Michael wasn't used to being interrupted. He disguised his annoyance with a winning smile and said, "Of course I am. There's nobody else here, is there?"

Pilot blinked. "Well, there's Moya. She can hear everything you say—"

"Uh-oh," said Michael. "I hate it when a room is bugged. Here's a nifty little trick, though: if you want to sweep for bugs when you don't have the right tool around, try a length of threekay wire, about half a liter of amnexus fluid, and the shell of a broken DRD." As he spoke, the master-spy snatched a nearby DRD off the console and cracked it open with a single deft blow. Then, taking hold of a cable under Pilot's console, he yanked it free and used the busted DRD to catch the liquid leaking out of the rupture.

"By Kahaynu!" screamed Pilot. "What are you doing?"

"Relax," said Michael, "the CIA trained me to improvise in the field. By the way," he reached into his pocket and drew out a small plastic container with a foil lid, and he offered this to Pilot, "would you like some yogurt?"

* * *

Chiana ducked into the center chamber. She had to get away from all these frelling humans! Crichton was magra-fharbot if he thought they were going to take five-hundred human scientists back through the wormhole with them. She would start shooting before she let that happen—especially the next time some skinny, homely little egghead decided to proposition her for sex. _She_ would decide when she felt like frelling a skinny, homely little human, thank you very much.

The clattering of pots and pans alerted Chiana to the fact that she wasn't alone. Confused, she turned around… and froze.

Standing in front of the heating element, cooking something—grolak, maybe?—was an elderly, _naked_ human male. He was humming to himself and occasionally drew a pull from a hand-rolled cigarette with a smell that reminded Chiana of galla root.

"What are you doing in here?" shouted Chiana.

The old man turned around. "Olivia? Is that you? Oh, my… no, obviously not." He squinted at Chiana and said, "Forgive me. It may be the combination of marijuana and LSD, but... are you an alien?"

Chiana glowered at the strange man. "I'm a nebari. You're on Moya. What do you think?"

"Splendid!" said the man gleefully, rubbing his hands together. "Belly always said that I was crazy, but I just knew that extraterrestrial life was real! Wait until Olivia and Peter hear about this…"

Chiana found herself staring at this strange, deluded human's… um… assets. It wasn't pleasant, but she couldn't look away. "Uh… you… uh… you know Olivia Crichton?"

"No," said the man, staring blankly. "Do you know Olivia Dunham? I'm wondering where she's wandered off too… I hope she hasn't stumbled into the other universe. Hm… I wonder whether Moya has visited Earth on the other side as well?"

The old man looked as if he were about to wander out of the center chamber, his cooking forgotten. Chiana moved with catlike reflexes to block the door. "Just where do you think you're going, anyway?"

"To find Olivia!" snapped the old man. "She's the only one who can tell me where I've left my clothes!" With that, the senile scientist brushed past Chiana and ambled out into Moya's corridors.

Chiana stood there in the center chamber, staring after him, terribly confused. A few microts later, a young man appeared and ran up to Chiana. "Pardon me, miss, have you seen Dr. Walter Bishop? I'm his son, Peter. I think he got lost around here."

Chiana smiled. This was much better. "Uh… no, I don't know who that is. But why don't we go look for him together, huh? Then, maybe later, I can show you around the ship…"

* * *

As was his habit these days, John Crichton used just about whatever was handy for the sake of his wormhole calculations. Today, it was the floor on Moya's command and a trusty black sharpie. "There," he said, finishing the equations and capping the marker, "you see? The whole key is to account for the _t_ variable, otherwise you wind up in an unrealized reality."

"Wrong. Nice try, but obviously wrong." Dr. Sheldon Cooper wasn't about to see himself bested by some rocket-jockey experimentalist.

"Sheldon!" snapped Dr. Leonard Hofstadter. "You do _not_ know more about wormholes than Dr. Crichton! Just face it: there's at least one field of physics that you're not the biggest expert in the universe on!"

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "An amusing thought, but he's still wrong. If I may?" He held out his hand in front of Crichton.

Crichton passed the sharpie. "Knock yourself out, kid. But I've got to warn you, it took four years of work and a race of ancient aliens downloading their knowledge into my brain before—what are you doing?"

Sheldon was already on his hands and knees, correcting Crichton's equations. "Your whole approach presupposes that you don't want to create an unrealized reality. But a much more elegant solution involves simply acknowledging that the set of all possible realities is infinite, and using a wormhole to travel directly to a separate reality where you never made a mistake."

Crichton glanced up at Leonard. "Did you get any of that?"

"Uh… no," confessed Leonard, "truth be told, I'm still trying to follow the whole 'downloaded ancient knowledge' bit." Then, throwing up his hands, he stormed off towards the corridor. "Never mind! I'm going to go find Raj and Howard!" Last he saw, Howard was following Chiana around, hitting on her with his worst pickup lines. Leonard decided that it was his duty to chase after them… not to stop Howard, of course, but because it would be really, really funny when he finally said the wrong thing in front of D'Argo.

Sikozu wandered onto command, dodging out of the way just in time to avoid being bowled over by Leonard. "What's the matter, Crichton?" she asked in her softest tone of condescension. "Your humans cannot understand wormhole technology?"

"I beg your pardon!" said Sheldon, standing up. "I've just dramatically improved on all of Dr. Crichton's equations! Why, if I wanted to, I could travel through time or destroy an entire planet!"

Sikozu's eyes widened. She looked at this strange, skinny little human with newfound respect. "Really? You could make a wormhole weapon?" Slinking up next to Sheldon, she purred, "Why don't we go somewhere more… private?"

Unconcerned, Sheldon replied, "I don't see why. But… okay."

As Sikozu led Sheldon away from command, Crichton watched after them, jaw dropped. Then, slowly, he drew Winona and checked the oil on his tongue. Yessir… some people were just too dangerous to let live.

* * *

The last transport pod shuttling Earth's best and brightest up to Moya landed with a "hiss" of steam. The gangplank lowered. A man appeared. A man in a suit. The suit was made of black leather, to match the Peacekeeper leathers worn by John Crichton and Aeryn Sun. Except, of course, that it was cut like the finest Italian three-piece. For that matter, the shirt and the necktie were black leather as well.

And it looked _awesome_.

Barney Stinson stepped onto the deck of Moya's landing bay and adjusted the leather necktie. "That's right," he said, winking and pointing a "gun finger" at nobody in particular. "Daddy's home."


End file.
